#cloud transition plan

[vastedge330]

https://www.bloglovin.com/@vastedge/guide-to-creating-an-effective-cloud-migration

Learn how to create an effective cloud migration strategy for 2024. This step-by-step guide covers planning, risk assessment, cost management, and tips for successful execution, ensuring smooth transition and scalability.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Chase Your Fears

Prompt: You and your younger brother are roadtripping across the US when you encounter a tornado. Luckily, the tornado wrangler himself shows up to help.

Word count: 11k

Warnings: tornado mention

A/N: Had this cute little idea and suddenly it turned into an 11k monster fic... anyway, i will be obsessed with tyler owens & twisters for the foreseeable future, so please send recs if you want!

“What is that?” 

You leaned forward in your seat and peered out the rearview mirror warily. But even with a better view, you still had no idea what you were looking at. 

“Seriously,” your little brother gawked from the front seat, body twisted so that he could turn around and see. “What is that?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, knuckles turning white as you tightened your grip on the steering wheel. You kept your eyes trained on the dark clouds swirling behind you. Thankfully, all the roads out here in Oklahoma were so long and straight– otherwise, you probably would have crashed your car. 

“Is that a tornado?” 

“No–” you began. But even as the words left your mouth, you realized that you actually had no clue. “Well, maybe–”

As soon as you spoke, both of your phones went off– an alert warning you of severe weather in the area. 

“It’s a tornado,” your brother exhaled, as he read the alert off his lockscreen. “No wonder the roads were so quiet today–  we’re the only idiots dumb enough to be driving through a tornado!”

“We’re not driving through a tornado, technically we’re driving in front of one… Besides, aren’t tornadoes thinner? Like a funnel?” you said, trying desperately to lighten the mood. You thought if you stayed calm, maybe it would keep your brother calm.  

“Don’t fat shame the tornado! What do we do?!”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, mouth growing increasingly dry. 

“We should call Mom–” 

“No, we definitely should not.”

“Why not?” you could hear the panic creeping up in his voice. 

“Because,” you said calmly. “Mom’s in New Hampshire– probably crocheting a blanket as we speak. What is she going to do to help us?”

Your brother opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again like he was realizing you were right. 

“Calling her is only going to make her panic halfway across the country.”

“We should call Dad then–”

“And what’s dad going to do from Texas?” you challenged. 

“Maybe he’ll know what to do– he said they have tornadoes where he lives.”

You frowned. “It’s behind us– we just need to keep driving and keep it behind us.”

“Okay,” your brother said uneasily. When you glanced his way, you saw his hands positioned in his lap, trembling. Instantly, you felt your chest ache. Your parents had the two of you nearly fifteen years apart. And as his big sister, in charge of escorting him across the country so that you could both stay with your dad for the summer, you felt like it was your responsibility to keep him safe. 

“I should’ve just flown,” he whimpered. “What was I thinking, doing a road trip through the midwest during tornado season?”

“Hey,” you said, reaching over to grab one of his hands. You had been the one to suggest the two of you drive to Texas together. A few weeks earlier, you had finally quit the job that had made you miserable for the last two years. It had been a long time coming, but with nothing else lined up, you’d been terrified to officially make the jump. 

You hated being afraid. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was stupidity– but something inside of you was driven to face your fears. If you’re afraid, do it, you always told yourself.  

So that was how you found yourself jobless at nearly twenty-eight. Currently, you were going through a transitional period that your mom liked to call your quarter-life crisis. You’d wanted a distraction– something fun to make you feel adventurous and brave and alive again. Initially, he’d been skeptical of the idea. While the two of you were close, he was cautious about spending the two weeks you’d planned out in a car together. But once you told him about your plans– stopping in New York and detouring to Nashville, he was sold. 

Hearing the fact that he regretted his decision made a pool of guilt spread through your insides. 

“You were thinking about how awesome it was going to be to spend two whole weeks with your sister on a road trip. I promise I’m not going to let anything happen to you– We’re okay.”

He nodded slowly, although the look of terror on his face told you he didn’t entirely believe you. 

“Did you know they call this area Tornado Alley?” he asked, speech rapid. “Cold air from the Rockies meets damp air from the Gulf of Mexico. It’s like… the perfect recipe for tornadoes.”

You sighed. In the past, you probably would have questioned why your New England-raised brother knew anything about tornadoes. But you’d since learned that his brain quite literally never forgot any shred of knowledge. The kid remembered everything. 

“Did you know that thirty percent of the country’s total number of tornadoes is in Tornado Alley? Or at least they have been since the fifties–”

While your fight or flight response was generally more geared towards running, his was fact-spewing. 

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, trying not to give away the fact that the tornado in your rearview mirror was seemingly getting closer with every glance you took. 

As you pressed your foot harder against the gas, you smiled towards him. “Tell me more. How do tornadoes form?”

“Well…” he began, and then he started talking rapidly about air pressure and moisture and wind speeds and other things you really didn’t understand. Truthfully, you tuned it out– your only focus on getting the two of you somewhere safe. 

Your method for calming him down worked– at least until the winds increased. Then a giant chunk of debris came flying at your car, forcing you to swerve quickly. 

“What was that?” he yelled, all panic that had previously faded from his voice returned in an instant. 

“I don’t know–”

“Oh my God, it’s closer– it’s right behind us!” 

“I know,” you said, your own voice raising. Your foot was practically touching the floor, but your car wouldn’t go any faster. 

Another piece of debris– this time you recognized it as a piece of a fence, slammed into the side of your car. 

“Shit!” your brother screamed. “Shit!”

“We’re okay–” you tried to assure him. “Listen to me, we’re okay– But I think I need to pull the car over.”

“What?!” he practically screamed. 

“I know– I know it’s scary, but I don’t think you’re supposed to be in a car if a tornado gets too close.”

“How do you know that?!”

You furrowed your brow. “I think I heard it on the Discovery channel or something–”

“Discovery channel?!” 

By now he was frantic, and you knew that you had to stay calm– no matter how panicked you were. But your brother also required plans and he required explanations– so you tried to give them to him. 

“Listen to me, I am going to stop the car, and we are going to get out, leave our stuff and run, okay?” 

“Run where?” 

“Uh,” you stammered. Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten that far yet. You looked around, realizing that your options were incredibly limited. There was an old barn to your left– and while the shelter enticed you, it didn’t look entirely sturdy. Further down there was an actual farm house– maybe they had a storm shelter or a basement. But you had no idea if you’d make it that far. 

Suddenly, an entire goddamn tree flew by your car, taking the side mirror with it. 

“The farmhouse–” you said. The barn would never stand.  

“Can we make it?” your brother asked. 

You nodded. “We’ll make it.” 

With that, you slammed on your breaks, causing your car to come to a sudden stop. 

To your relief, your brother followed your instructions. He launched himself out of the car and hurried around the hood to you. You quickly grabbed his hand before turning to start towards the barn. 

But before you could even move more than a few steps, a pair of headlights seemingly came out of nowhere to your right. A red truck screeched to a halt just as a man, clouded by the fog, stuck his head out and shouted, “Get in!” 

“What?” you screamed over the wind. 

He motioned with his thumb towards his truck. “Get. In!” he emphasized. “Now!”

Before you could hesitate or question anything, instincts kicked in. You shoved your little brother towards the man and his truck. The man had already hopped out and was opening the back door. Once you reached him, he grabbed your brother first. With ease, he lifted him into the truck. 

“Buckle up–” he instructed. “See that harness strap? Put that on–” Next he turned to you, “I got gear in the seat back here, it’ll take too long to move– you’ll have to go up front.”

You nodded before hurrying to the passenger side of his truck. Without hesitating, you hoisted open the door– a task that proved to be increasingly challenging based on the wind speeds. It was like the door was suctioned to the body. You gave it a few good pulls, using all your strength, but it wouldn’t open. 

You glanced at your brother through the back window and saw his eyes grow wide. He screamed your name before banging on the window– reaching for you. 

“It’s okay!” you cried. “I’m okay!” Although you weren’t sure how true that would be a few moments from now. 

“Shit,” you said to yourself, jostling the handle. “Shit, shit, shit–”

“It’s okay,” you heard a voice call. The man had turned the corner of the truck bed and was reaching for the door. With one strong pull, he hoisted it open. “There we go, let’s get ya inside–” 

You reached up, grabbing the handle on the door while stepping up. You felt a hand on your back give you a gentle nudge as you hoisted yourself the rest of the way inside. Once you were positioned in the seat with the door closed, you watched through the windshield as the man jogged lightly around his car with ease and climbed into the driver’s seat. 

“Harness–” the man said, pointing towards the straps behind you before slamming his door shut. 

Quickly, you shrugged them over your shoulders and fastened the buckle. 

“I can’t–” you heard your brother say from behind you. When you turned in your seat, you saw that he still wasn’t buckled– his straps were tangled. 

You moved your hands to your own straps to undo them, but were stopped by the man. “I got him, you stay buckled,” he said before turning to extend his torso into the backseat. “Here we go, buddy,” he said gently. You marveled how, even with a tornado barreling towards you all, the man could remain so gentle and calm. The way he talked to your brother was… well, you couldn't quite find the words for what it was, but you appreciated it. You made a mental note to thank the man for it if you made it out of this alive. 

“I can’t do it–” you could hear the panic in your brother’s voice. 

“It’s okay,” the man said. “I got you. I’m gonna help. Everything’s okay.” 

“The tornado is right there!” he screamed, fear and anguish building in your brother’s throat. 

“Try to stay calm,” you said. “We’re okay–”

“We’re NOT okay!” 

“It looks closer than it is,” the man soothed. “Look at my face– do I look scared? So there’s no need for you to be scared– I got you, see? Harness is done. You’re all strapped in. Nothin’s gonna get ya.”

Swiftly, the man spun back in his seat, did up his own harness in a few seconds, and then pressed a giant, red button on a stick shift near the center console of his truck. You heard a loud sound– like gears shifting, above the whipping winds outside. And then he leaned back in his seat, checking on the storm in the rearview mirror. 

“Are you going to drive?” you asked him, turning to get a look at him for the first time. He had a baseball cap resting backwards on his head and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was handsome, you realized. 

The muscles of his forearms flexed as he reached for the wheel. But instead of driving anywhere, he shook his head.  

“What?” you gasped. “It’s coming right for us–”

“I know– we can’t outrun it,” he explained. “So we just have to let it pass. Hang on, we’ll be okay.”

“I thought a vehicle was one of the worst places to be in a tornado–” 

“It is,” he replied simply, only making your panic increase. “But we’ll be alright. Trust me.” 

You were about to argue, but before you knew it, he shouted, “Hang on!” – Just as the cloud funnel consumed you. 

The next seconds or minutes or hours passed in a terrifying blur. With your eyes squeezed shut and hands held over your ears, you still heard everything. You heard winds whipping against the truck, causing it to rock back and forth. You heard your brother scream from the backseat, feeling helpless because there was nothing you could do to help comfort him. You heard the slamming sound of debris– trees, fences, and whatever the hell else as it crashed into you and everything around you. You heard the ringing in your ear– like it was all too much to bear… All the while wondering which blow would be the one to kill you. 

And then suddenly, you heard nothing at all. You remained frozen in place for a moment longer, in case this silence was a fluke. But then slowly, things came back into focus. You lowered your arms and opened your eyes to see the man leaned over in his seat, harness already unbuckled, while he gazed at you. 

Although laced with concern, his eyes were the prettiest shade of green you’d ever seen. He really was handsome– almost shockingly so. And now, he was mouthing something– like he was trying to talk to you. 

Suddenly, his voice came through the fog– soft and gentle. “Are you okay?”  

You nodded slowly without actually knowing if that was the case. You’d know if you weren’t, right? 

“How–” you said suddenly, turning to look outside. There was debris everywhere– tree limbs and branches, leaves and chunks of housing. 

“Nothing hurts? You’re okay?”

You turned back towards him and did a quick body scan– checking in on your body before shaking your head a little more confidently. Then you remembered your brother in the backseat. You turned the best that you could with your harness still on, to glance at him. 

“Are you okay?” you asked him. 

“Yeah,” you heard his shaky voice ring out. You exhaled a breath of relief. 

Careful not to kick you with his boots, the man maneuvered to the backseat with ease. 

“Hey buddy,” you heard him say. “You alright back here?” 

“I’m okay.”

“Good– you did great. Must’ve held on real tight. Can I help ya with the harness now?” 

You started grasping at your own harness. Except, when you moved to adjust the buckles, you realized that your hands were shaking too hard to be of any use. No matter how hard you willed them to steady, they wouldn’t. 

You continued to try until the man hopped out of the truck and came around to your side. He hoisted open the door and placed his hands on top of yours– the sudden warmth sending shock waves through your body, causing your head to shoot up.  

You were met by his intense gaze for a second time, a sea of sage green took your breath away. You swallowed– realizing how dry your mouth suddenly had become. Although the pair of you were complete strangers, the man’s strong jawline flexed as he gazed at you with what looked like worry. 

“We’re okay,” he assured you. “You’re alright. Can I help with the harness?” 

You gave him a quick nod before dropping your shaky hand from it. When he was finished, you stripped off your harness straps and turned to hop out of the truck. As soon as you did, you saw his outstretched hand– offering to help. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took it, not trusting yourself or your unsteady legs. As soon as your feet were back on the ground, you released his hand and turned towards your brother. 

“Are you okay?” you asked for a second time, a sob prickling the back of your throat. As soon as he nodded yes, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, tugging him against you. Even at twelve years old, he was almost taller than you. 

“God, I’m so sorry–” you said. 

“What were you guys doing out here?” the man suddenly asked. He stood with his hip popped slightly, his hands resting on the waistband of his jeans. “They’ve been announcing this storm since this mornin’.” His voice wasn’t accusatory, just generally curious. 

Keeping your arm around your brother’s shoulders, you turned to face him. “We’re not from here,” you explained. “We were just driving through– we didn’t know it was coming.”

He nodded. “They can sneak up on ya sometimes. Where are y’all from?”

“New Hampshire,” you said. 

The man let out a low whistle. “You’re a long way from home.” 

“We were driving my dad’s,” your brother piped in. “He lives in Texas.”

“I should’ve paid more attention to the weather,” you admitted, shaking your head. “It was stupid. But thank you…” your voice trailed off, realizing you didn’t know the man’s name. 

“Tyler,” he replied, extending his hand for a second time, this time for you to shake. 

“Tyler,” you repeated. “Thank you Tyler, for saving us.” You quickly introduced yourself before turning and introducing your brother. 

“Hang on. What were you doing out here if they’d been talking about the storm all morning?” your brother asked bluntly. 

Just as you were about to give him a look that said don’t question strangers who save our lives, Tyler smiled, flashing his white teeth. “I was chasin’ her,” he said, nodding towards the tornado still spinning in the distance. 

“You chase tornadoes?” your brother exclaimed. 

Tyler’s grin got wider. “Sure do. That’s why my truck didn’t blow away. I got extra precautions.” Then, like he could see the eagerness in your brother’s face, he smirked. “Wanna see?” 

Your brother nodded before breaking away from your embrace and racing back towards the truck– like he’d already forgotten about the tornado that almost killed you both. 

“That alright with you?” Tyler asked. 

You nodded, head still foggy and body still trembling. “Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, eyeing your shaky hands. 

“Oh– yeah,” you said. “Just nerves… We don’t get many tornadoes up in New Hampshire, and we sure as hell don’t chase them.”

“You did good,” Tyler told you. “You stayed calm– kept him calm.”

“Thanks,” you said shyly, feeling stupid that this stranger’s compliment actually meant something to you. Then, you motioned with your thumb over your shoulder. “I’m gonna go check out my car– see how bad it is.”

With that, you left your brother with Tyler, and turned the corner of the hood of his truck, tracing your steps back to where you’d initially abandoned your car. As soon as you entered the clearing, you wished you hadn’t. There, amongst the piles of debris and chaos, was your SUV laying on its side– the front windshield completely smashed, both airbags deployed, and the doors caved in. 

“Shit,” you muttered, unable to help the tears forming in your eyes. You were grateful for your brother’s safety, but you knew you couldn’t drive your car like this– 

You took a few steadying breaths, reminding yourself that completely falling apart wasn’t going to be helpful. And, despite the part of you trying to avoid this, you knew that you’d have to call your parents.

You turned back towards Tyler’s truck and saw him and your brother laying on the ground– looking at something underneath the bed. That’s when you noticed two, gigantic-looking screws secured into the ground. That must have been the button Tyler pushed right before the tornado had engulfed you. 

Your brother looked content for the time being, so you pulled out your phone and dialed your mom first. 

She answered after only a couple of rings. 

“Hi honey, how are things going?”

“Hi Mom,” you said, voice already shaking. “Don’t panic okay? We’re both alright–”

“What happened?” she said urgently, clearly doing the opposite of what you’d requested. 

You sighed– might as well just come right out and say it. “We’re in Oklahoma, and a tornado just hit– like literally hit us.”

“What?” she gasped. You could already imagine her sitting up from her recliner, tossing her ball of yarn or whatever she was using to the side. 

“Yeah– Some guy came and helped us. We were able to wait it out…” you paused, like you still couldn’t entirely believe what had just happened to you. “But I can’t drive my car.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Are you sure you’re alright? Where’s your brother?”

“We’re fine, Mom. The guy who helped us is still here– he’s showing him stuff in his truck to keep him busy.”

“Who is this guy?”

“Just some local– we got lucky, he knew exactly what to do.”

You heard her exhale a sharp breath. 

“Mom, I don’t know what to do– We’re stranded here.”

“Oh, honey,” she sighed. “I should have never let you take him in a car. You should have just flown. Gosh, you both could’ve been killed.”

The pool of guilt grew larger inside your chest. 

“I know–” you said, feeling defeated. Because she was right– what the hell were you thinking?

After a moment of silence, she sighed. “I’m so glad you’re alright. Why don’t you call your father– see how far he is? Maybe he can come and pick you up. If he can’t, call me back and we’ll figure something out..”

“Okay,” you said, voice thick with the tears you were trying not to shed. 

“I love you,” she assured you. 

“Love you, too. I’ll talk to you later.”

With that, you hung up the phone, just as a few tears splashed down your cheeks. 

After wiping them away, you glanced back towards Tyler and your brother. Tyler was helping your brother into the truck bed, where he had a bunch of gear strapped down. Your brother had a look of pure excitement plastered on his face as he looked around. You were far enough away so that you couldn’t make out what they were saying, but you could see your brother’s lips moving rapidly, totally skipping the shy-stage he normally went through when he met new people. 

Like he could tell you were staring, Tyler looked up and caught your eye. Even from this distance, you saw the way his lips curled into a smile that made something in your stomach flutter. He gave you a quick wave before turning his attention back towards your brother. 

Realizing your brother was in seemingly good hands, you knew you couldn’t stall calling your dad any longer. So, you pulled up his contact and dialed, preparing to give the same explanation to him as you did your mom. 

“Hey kiddo!” He answered. “How’s the road trip going?”

You were nearly twenty-eight years old, but your dad still answered the phone the same way he did when you were ten. 

“Hey dad,” you said. To your dismay, no matter how hard you fought it, your voice still cracked. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, instantly picking up on the fact that something was wrong. 

You bit your lip, fighting back tears. When you felt composed enough, you spoke. “No,” you admitted. “We’re in Oklahoma, and we got hit by a tornado while we were driving– We’re both safe, but my car is totaled– I can’t drive it.” 

“Oh my God, what?” he gasped. 

“I don’t know what happened– it was all so fast. I couldn’t outrun it– I tried. But there wasn’t anything we could do– it was moving so quickly and–”

“Okay, breathe,” your dad interrupted, his voice calm. 

You were breathing, weren’t you? Except, when you went to inhale, you realized that no, you were not. You sucked in a breath before letting out a choppy exhale. 

“Good– everything’s going to be okay. It’s just a car. They can be replaced. You’re safe, your brother is safe– that’s what’s important.” 

“We’re stranded– in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Well that’s all of Oklahoma, honey. Do you know what town you’re in?” 

“No, but I can find out,” you said shakily. After wiping your wet cheeks the best you could, you made your way back towards the truck. 

“Tyler,” you said, catching his attention. “What town are we in? My dad wants to know.”

“You’re talking to Dad?” your brother piped in. “Tell him I said hi.”

“We’re near Stillwater,” Tyler replied. 

You repeated it back to your dad. 

“Okay, who’s there helping you?”

“Uh this guy–” you said, turning away before Tyler could overhear. “He saved us.” 

“Well I’m glad to hear that. Sounds like he was in the right place at the right time. Stillwater is about six hours north of me. How about I put you guys up in a hotel for a night then I come and get you tomorrow and we can figure everything else out?” 

“Hotels are a lot… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but it’s going to get dark before too long, and I don’t want to be driving late. I just want you both safe until then. Why don’t you see if that guy who helped you knows a place?”

“Yeah, okay,” you said, pulling the phone back again. “Hey Tyler?” you turned to see him in the same spot– still showing your brother various gadgets and gear. “Do you know of any hotels or anything nearby? I can’t drive my car– and our dad can’t get us until tomorrow.”

Tyler sucked in a breath of air. “Yikes, there ain’t much around here. Unless you want to bunk at the motel off Broadway street. I think it’s up to a 1.8 star review on Yelp, but last I knew they had a cockroach problem.”

You grimaced. “What about buses or anything that we could take to Austin?”

“You know,” Tyler began, eyes flickering into the distance before looking back at you. “I got a big ole’ farm house not too far from here with a couple of extra bedrooms. Why don’t you both just stay the night and your dad can get you from there in the mornin’?”

You immediately began shaking your head. “No–”

But your dad’s voice on the phone caught you off guard. “Let me talk to him.”

“Dad–” you protested. 

But he insisted. 

So, begrudgingly, that was how you found yourself passing your cell phone to Tyler. 

Tyler’s eyebrow raised gently at the gesture. 

“He wants to talk to you,” you explained. 

Tyler pointed to himself, as if he was questioning if you meant your brother instead. “Me?”

You nodded. 

Tyler reached his arm out skeptically, taking your phone, then pressed it to his ear. “Uh, hello?” 

You couldn’t hear your father’s voice on the other end– just mumbling. 

“Yes sir– No, that’s not necessary, I was happy to do it–” There was a brief pause. “Yes sir. Cockroaches yeah, you heard that right. I do. Right in town actually. It’s not a problem, I have the space–” Another pause. “Of course, I can send my contact info, and the address.”

You shut your eyes– as if your father was coordinating a sleepover at Tyler’s right now. It’s not like you weren’t grateful for his offer, but you felt like he’d already helped too much. First he saved your lives, now he offers shelter?

“Alright. Alright, you too. Take care.”

With that, Tyler passed you your phone back. 

“Go with him,” your dad said, as soon as you held it back against your ear.  

“Dad–” 

“It’s one night,” he insisted. “It’s either him or the cockroaches.”

…

Less than thirty minutes later, Tyler was pulling his truck down a long, dirt driveway. Positioned at the end of it, set back with the setting sun as a backdrop, was an old, white farmhouse with a wrap around porch and blue shutters. 

“You live here?” you asked in awe. 

Tyler smiled. “Been in my family for a long time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, eyes now scanning the amount of land he had. There was a wheat field to the right, and to the left was a sturdy-looking barn with an exterior that matched the house. 

“Technically it belongs to my aunt. But she’s living it up in Tulsa right now, so I stay here– maintain the place for her. It’ll be mine one day.”

“Do you have horses?” your brother asked from the backseat. 

Tyler’s grin stretched the length of his face. “Sure do. Let’s get you guys cleaned up and fed, then we can see them later.”

Tyler unloaded the suitcases you’d recovered from your SUV and carried them inside for you, despite your protests. You were quickly learning that Tyler was a gentleman– always holding doors and offering his hand to help. Each time he went out of his way to help you, it caused strange feelings to stir up inside of you– ones that you had no business feeling about a man you’d just met. 

The interior of the farmhouse was just as beautiful as the outside. Tyler showed you around the first floor, pointing out the kitchen, bathroom, and living room before walking your luggage up the stairs to where the bedrooms and second bathroom were. 

“Both rooms have double beds– there’s only a shower, it’s in the bathroom up here. But feel free to use it. Towels and washcloths are in that closet there– extra blankets are in the chests at the end of the beds.”

“Thank you,” you said again, finally taking your luggage from him. “This is…” you shook your head. “You’ve been really kind, thank you.”

“My pleasure– only the best for my first New Hampshire guests,” he said cheekily. Then, Tyler clasped his hands together. “Alright, well I’ll leave you guys to it. Come on down whenever you’re ready, I’ll whip up something to eat. Y’all like burgers?”

Your brother’s face lit up. “Love them!” 

“Sounds great,” you replied. 

“Coupla’ burgers comin’ right up then,” Tyler smirked.

“He’s so cool,” your brother muttered before grabbing his bag and heading off to claim a bedroom. 

Cool was one word for him, you thought. 

…

You took longer in the shower than expected. Probably because every time you closed your eyes to rinse the shampoo out of your hair, all you could see was that goddamn tornado barreling towards you. Each and every time, it made your entire body lurch– causing you to snap open your eyes with a sense of urgency. 

Even though you were just showering– it felt like you were outside running… your breath was choppy and your heart was racing just standing there. 

You forced yourself to unclench your jaw, worried that your molars were going to crack with how tense you were. Eventually, you gave up and decided to just keep your eyes open while you rinsed your hair out. 

When you were finished, you threw on a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt from your suitcase before heading downstairs to join your brother and Tyler. You could smell the burgers before you even got to the kitchen, making your mouth water. 

“There’s New Hampshire,” Tyler grinned, seemingly proud of the nickname he’d given you. He was behind the island, setting a steaming pot down on a cooling plate next to a few empty plates stacked on top of each other.  

Your brother sat on a stool at the island– his hair still damp from his own shower, nibbling on a piece of plain white bread while he watched Tyler maneuver around the kitchen. 

“Do you need any help?” you asked. As soon as you spoke, you could hear the shakiness in your tone. You’d been trying to ignore how tight your chest still felt, but you’d have to do better at hiding it if you wanted to evade detection. 

You didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on you for a moment before Tyler shook his head. “Nah, I’m almost done. I got burgers on the grill, some corn, and leftover pasta salad from my mom– you gotta try it.” 

He handed you and your brother each an empty plate before taking the lid off the corn pot. 

“I’ll go grab the burgers, but help yourself.”

With that, he was disappearing out the back door. 

“How’re you doing?” you asked your brother once you were alone. 

“Hungry,” he said as he piled a mound of pasta salad on his plate. 

You reached over and ran your hands through his hair before shaking his head lightly. “I don’t mean that– I mean how’re you doing after everything today? That was a lot.” 

Or at least it had been for you… 

Your brother shrugged. “It was scary, but I’m okay now. Statistically speaking tornadoes never strike the same place twice. So that one’s gone for good. And Tyler said the likelihood of another one hitting the area is extremely low.”

“That’s right,” Tyler said, as he reentered the kitchen with a plate stacked full of burgers. 

You watched him move through the kitchen with ease, pleasantly surprised by the fact that he’d obviously helped to reassure your brother. 

“You want one or two burgers?” Tyler asked him. 

Your brother held up two fingers with one hand and his plate with the other. 

“What do you say?” you mumbled, nudging him in the side. 

“Please,” he said, flashing his teeth.

“You got it,” Tyler chuckled. 

With a full plate, your brother headed for the dining room, leaving you and Tyler alone in the kitchen. 

“How are you doing?” Tyler asked as he passed you the plate of burgers. 

“Me?” you said, trying your best to sound casual. Apparently you were the only one even remotely freaked out by the fact that a tornado had almost killed all of you today. “Oh, I’m alright. Much better after showering– thank you again.”

“You gotta stop thanking me, really it’s not a problem. I wouldn’t have offered if it was,”  How are you really doing though?”

You glanced up, surprised to see Tyler’s concerned gaze fixated on you. He’d ditched the baseball hat, allowing you to see his sandy brown hair for the first time. It was slightly disheveled, but so soft. The way it was pushed back from his face made it look like Tyler had been running his fingers through it– a sight you wouldn’t mind seeing. 

Quickly, you averted your gaze back to your plate. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” he challenged you. “Because it’s okay not to be okay after getting hit by a tornado– especially for the first time.”

It was like he could sense how anxious you really were– like one of those emotional support animals. Or maybe you just didn’t have the poker face you thought you did.

“I was just worried for my brother,” you said, taking a spoonful of pasta salad. “But it seems like you managed to calm his nerves.”

“Yeah, well, kids are all the same. They just need reassurance. They wanna feel safe.”

Now was your chance to poke a little deeper– to shift the conversation off from you, but also to learn something about Tyler. “Do you have kids?” you asked, trying to make the question sound casual. 

“No,” he answered quickly. “Got a niece and a nephew though. They live in Texas, so I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like. Do you?” Tyler asked, glancing over. When he caught your confused expression, he added, “Have kids?”

“Oh, no,” you said, shaking your head. “God, no. You saw what happened today– I have my brother for less than two weeks and I almost got him killed. Imagine if I had an actual child?”

“You didn’t almost get him killed,” Tyler refuted. “You had no way of knowing that thing was comin’.”

“You knew it was coming,” you challenged. 

Tyler shrugged. “Well that’s ‘cause I’m a professional.”

“I didn’t know you could be a professional tornado-chaser,” you said teasingly, finally picking up your plate to head to the table. 

Tyler followed close behind, choosing a seat across from you and your brother. “I prefer the name tornado wrangler, myself.”

“Tornado wrangler?” you repeated skeptically. 

“That’s right,” he smirked, a hint of playfulness in his tone. 

“You’re such a badass,” your brother said between bites. He was already halfway done his food. You felt another pang of guilt– he really was hungry.  

“So what does a tornado wrangler do exactly?” you asked. 

Tyler chewed his food for a moment before answering. “Well, we have a YouTube channel. And we livestream videos of us headin’ into storms. We offer our viewers a close look at the tornadoes– a view most of them will never see in real life.”

“We? You mean there’s more than just one of you crazy enough to chase those things?”

Tyler’s face was full-on beaming now, and you could tell just how passionate he really was about all of this. Even if it scared the absolute shit out of you– you loved to hear him talk about it. 

“I got a whole team– there’s Boone, he’s my buddy behind the camera, he takes care of the livestream and the editing when we need it. Then I got Lilly, she operates our drone. That helps give us alternative coverage and vantage points when we need it. Dexter and Dani both help with storm tracking– but Dani also helps fix the gear and stuff when we need it.”

“What’s the scariest tornado you’ve ever seen?” your brother asked, pieces of burger flying out of his mouth while he spoke. 

“Chew your food before talking,” you said under your breath. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Tyler let out a soft chuckle, his eyes flickering to yours before turning back to your brother. “I think the scariest tornado I’ve ever seen was when I was about your age– My mom and I got caught up in an EF 4 while we were drivin’. It picked us right up– dropped us in a field about half a mile away.”

“EF 4?” you asked cluelessly. 

“It’s the Enhanced Fujita Scale,” your brother replied. “It measures the tornado's speed and estimated damage.”

“That’s right,” Tyler smiled, like he was proud of your brother for knowing. “They measure on a scale of 0-5.”

“What was the one that hit us today?” you asked warily. 

“Today was an EF1,” Tyler answered. 

All the blood drained from your face. “A one?” you gaped. 

In the midst of taking a bite of corn, he nodded. 

“You’re telling me that thing could have been worse?”

The corner of Tyler’s lip twitched upwards. “A lot worse,” he said grimly. “That’s why it was safe to stay in my truck. We drive her into zero’s and one’s all the time, she handles a two pretty good. Even managed a three once.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath. 

The rest of the evening consisted of your brother bombarding Tyler with questions about his job– how many tornadoes had he seen? What was an EF5 like? Had he ever seen a cow fly through the air like in the movies? 

But you had a hard time listening after a while– each additional fact you learned about tornadoes made your skin crawl. Your heart rate had picked up again– similar to how it was in the shower. It was taking all of your energy to just appear normal while you picked at the remaining food on your plate. 

Why would anyone willing chase one of those things? What you witnessed today was one of the smallest possible tornadoes– and it was still terrifying. You couldn’t imagine if you’d been out there faced by something worse. 

Their conversation eventually became muffled background noise, something that nestled in the back of your mind while you tried to focus on your breath and willed yourself not to shake.

That is, until you feel something boney jab in your side, making everything come back into focus again. 

“What?” you asked, turning cluelessly towards your brother. 

“Tyler asked if you were done,” he said, nodding towards your plate. 

“Oh–” you said, embarrassed. That’s when you noticed Tyler was now standing, arm extended like he was reaching for your dish. “Yeah– yeah, I’m done.” 

He moved to collect your plate for you but you stopped him. “No, I’ll get these– you guys talk.” 

“You sure?” he asked warily. 

“Yeah, I’m sure– You cook and house us, I can do some dishes.”

With a brief, unconvincing smile, you quickly gathered as much as you could in your arms and fled into the kitchen for some space. 

What the hell was wrong with you? It was like you couldn’t catch your breath, no matter how hard you tried. 

As you scrubbed at the dishes, arms extended under warm water, you tried desperately to get it together. No one had died– no one had even gotten hurt. Plus, like Tyler had told your brother– the probability of this happening again was incredibly slim. So why couldn’t you stop feeling like that EF1 was consuming you? 

By the time you were finished with the dishes, your hands were shaking so bad, you could barely set them on the drying rack. So, you snapped off the water and leaned against the counter, gripping the lip of it tightly and taking some deep breaths. Vaguely, you heard your little brother’s laughter from the other room. You latched onto the sound and tried to let it soothe you. 

Everyone was okay. 

He’s laughing– he’s having fun. You’re all okay. 

After his laughter stills, you hear the sound of chair legs sliding across the floor. “I’m gonna go grab some water, you want any dessert, big guy? I got ice cream.” 

“No thanks, I’m full from the burgers.”

Tyler chuckled. “Alright, be right back.”

Quickly, you swallowed the lump in your throat and started putting the condiments away, trying to look as normal as possible before Tyler approached. 

“Thanks for doing all of those,” Tyler said once he got to the kitchen. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, it’s the least I could do,” you said, turning to face him. 

“My mom would kill me if she knew I let my guest do the dishes.”

“My mom would kill me if she knew I let someone save, cook, and house me without me doing the dishes.”

Tyler grinned. “Fair enough, New Hampshire.” 

“You keep calling me that,” you said. “But I don’t actually live in New Hampshire, you know?” 

Tyler’s eyebrow curled up in an expression that said tell me more. 

“My mom and brother live there. I used to live there. But now I have an apartment in Boston, been there since college.”

“Boston?” Tyler repeated. “Ah, so you’re like a nine-to-five city girl.”

You frowned. “Not anymore,” you admitted. “It was killing me. Especially in the winter– you go to work before the sun’s up, and you’re out after it sets. I couldn’t do it anymore, so I recently quit.”

“What’re you gonna do now?” he inquired. 

You shrugged. “I’m trying to figure that out. Probably move somewhere with less concrete, and hopefully find a job that lets me out before the sun sets.”

Tyler set his glass of water on the kitchen island. “So what you’re saying is I can’t call you New Hampshire or Boston?” 

“You got a problem with just using people’s names?” 

Tyler shrugged. “I like nicknames. Shows that someone’s special to ya.”

You felt like your feet had been knocked out from underneath you. You cleared your throat before looking away, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“You know, I don’t mean to pry,” Tyler said, changing the subject. “But are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. 

“I just– at dinner you seemed a little zoned out.”

“I’m just tired,” you lied. 

Tyler paused, eyes scanning you sincerely. His gaze felt like it could set you on fire– like every inch of your skin was set ablaze. Ultimately, he decided to back off. “Okay then,” he said. “I’ll finish up here, why don’t you guys get settled for bed? It’s been a long day.” 

“Okay– yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Pushing off the counter, you brushed past him, pausing only when you got to the doorframe. 

“Tyler?” 

He spun around quickly. 

“I know you said to stop thanking you but seriously… Thank you. For everything.” 

His lips curled upwards in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes the way you’d already learned you liked. He gave a curt nod. “I’m happy to do it, New Hampshire,” he said, sticking with his original nickname. 

You made your way upstairs to bed with your little brother and a stupid smile plastered on your face. 

…

“We have to move!” you shouted, hoping your brother could hear you above the wind. 

But instead of reacting or doing anything at all, he just stood there– his back towards you while he stared at the swirling clouds in the distance. 

“Hey!” you screamed. “We gotta go!” 

You took a step forward– but weren’t any closer to him. 

Frowning, you took another step– then another. But the distance remained the same. Screaming his name, you pleaded with him to turn around. If he didn’t move, you were both going to die– the tornado had touched down. It was barrelling right for you. It was sucking roofs off houses, and breaking fences into tiny pieces. Debris flew all around at what seemed like a hundred miles per hour– shards of glass, pieces of plywood. Something was going to hit you– or worse, your brother. 

You were running now, trying desperately to reach him. If you could just get there in time, maybe you could grab his arm and pull him away in time. 

But it was no use– you were too slow. And the tornado was so fast. Right before your eyes– you saw your brother get sucked into the funnel– his entire frame flying up in the air. 

You screamed– 

He screamed back– you heard your name echo through the storm. 

He was calling for you– begging for you to save him. 

You screamed louder– 

Then you heard a voice yell. Except, this voice didn’t match your brothers—it was too deep and less familiar. Your body tensed as you were jostled. 

With force, your eyes finally snapped open, revealing the vaguely familiar room around you. The moonlight poured through the curtain that you forgot to close and revealed Tyler’s worried-looking face peering over her. His green eyes were blown open and wide, his lips slightly parted as his gaze raked over the length of you. 

“Tyler–” you croaked. 

“There you are,” he exhaled. “You’re okay, you’re at my house– you’re safe.”

You opened your mouth, instantly trying to think of a way to brush this whole thing off– maybe make a joke or something to ease the tension. But instead of finding words, a choppy, uneven huff of air poured out of you. You tried again, but this time all you could do was desperately gasp– like you couldn’t get enough air in your lungs. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tyler said. You felt the bed dip as he sat down beside you. Without even thinking, you reached out for him– fingers clasping onto the fabric of his white t-shirt. He placed his hands on top of yours and gave them a gentle, reassuring squeeze. 

“Baby, you’re okay,” he said. If you could breathe, you might have melted at the pet name he gave you. Instead, your wild eyes searched his desperately.  “I got you. Breathe with me– look.” Tyler took a couple of deep breaths, exaggerating the act so that you’d copy him. You tried, but ended up just choking harder. 

“Just do it with me.” 

With an intense amount of concentration, you were finally able to latch onto the sound of Tyler breathing. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. 

“There you go,” he soothed. “You got it.”

You’re not sure how long the two of you stayed like that– but eventually, your breathing returned to normal. 

That’s when the embarrassment kicked in. Because how utterly mortifying to be a guest at someone’s home and to wake them up screaming because of some stupid nightmare. 

“I’m so–”

“Don’t even think about apologizing,” Tyler said gently. “You got nothing to be sorry for.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but then realized there was no point. Tyler would just refute whatever you said. So instead, you asked the question that had been burning in your brain since you got to the farm house. 

“Why am I so affected by this and no one else is? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Tyler assured you instantly. “In fact, you’re probably the only normal one in this house– most people get freaked out after bein’ near a tornado, much less in the middle of one. I have this weird thing goin’ on where I just feel more alive if my life’s in danger, and no offense but I think your brother’s brain might be wired a little differently than most.”

You let out a genuine laugh– the first of the night. “He’s on the spectrum,” you explained. “You’re really good with him, you know? Most people just think he’s odd and ignore him. But not you– you actually talk to him.” 

Tyler smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did. “He’s a good kid.” 

You nodded in agreement. “You know he didn’t even want to come on this road trip with me? He wanted to fly to my dad’s– but I talked him into it. I’ve felt so lost since quitting my job and I needed a distraction. I used my little brother as a distraction.”

“Wanting to spend time with someone doesn’t mean you’re using them. It seems like he’s having a good time,” Tyler said. “He told me all about the Titanic museum you took him to in Nashville.” 

You chuckled. “He loves disasters. It’s kind of his thing. That’s why he knows so much about tornadoes–”

“And today he got to see one– up close. I bet he’ll tell that story for the rest of his life.”

“The story about how his older sister almost got him killed,” you said, head hanging with shame. 

“The story of how his big sister stayed so incredibly calm, even though she was terrified– just so that she could make sure he was okay. The big sister who kept him safe even though they got caught in a tornado.” 

You glanced up towards Tyler to see him looking at you with what looked like yearning in his expression. You wanted to just lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck– let him hold you and comfort you and tell you that everything was going to be alright. You couldn’t know for sure but he just looked like he gave the best hugs. Instead though, you tried to come to your senses. You blinked harshly, and glanced down at the blankets pooled in your lap. 

“I hate being afraid,” you admitted. “I know it’s normal– and it keeps us safe. But it makes me feel weak.”

“I get it,” Tyler replied. “That’s why I started the channel. I was sick of being afraid of ‘em, so I decided to chase ‘em instead.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’ll have to tag along with your team on the next one,” you joked. 

Tyler’s face lit up. “You could, you know. We go all the time– and it’s tornado season in Oklahoma so we probably wouldn't have to wait that long to find one.”

He couldn’t possibly be serious– but the look on his face told you that he was. 

“My dad’s getting us tomorrow,” you reminded him. 

All the excitement on Tyler’s face fell– making something inside of you fall with it. “Right,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course, yeah.” 

“But maybe I’ll tune into your channel,” you offered, hoping to get even a hint of that excitement back. You hated seeing him disappointed. 

Tyler smiled, “You better,” he teased, nudging your leg through the blanket. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I’m probably not going to get much sleep tonight. You want some tea or somethin’?”

You couldn’t help but nod– it was hard to say no to him. 

…

You and Tyler ended up talking through most of the night. The more you talked, the more you realized he was someone you could really see yourself falling for. He made you laugh– and not the fake kind you did to avoid hurting someone’s feelings, either. On several occasions, he had you curled over, shaking with laughter because of something he said. And he was a good listener– always asking follow-up questions or inquiring more. 

Before you knew it, six entire hours had passed and the sun was rising on the east side of the barn, shining golden light through the gaps in the curtains.  

You had found yourself curled up in the living room, back pressed against the arm of the couch and facing Tyler. He shifted in his seat, and, without thinking, you tucked your feet underneath his thigh, causing him to hiss. 

“Your feet are freezing,” he gasped playfully, but he didn't pull away.  

You laughed in response, digging them further underneath his legs.  

“I can feel them through my pants,” he said, laughing with you.  

“It’s morning,” you observed, unable to believe that you spent an entire night talking to him. 

He bit his lip and nodded. “Time flies.” He chuckled lightly before standing up from the couch, leaving your feet feeling cold again, and walking into the adjoined kitchen. You followed him awkwardly, just a step or two behind. You watch as he retrieved two mugs from a tall cabinet and placed them on the countertop.    

“Coffee?” he asked, nonchalantly, holding the cup up as an offering.  

You sighed a breath of relief at the thought of coffee– especially after only an hour or two of sleep. “Yes. Please.” 

Tyler rummaged around the kitchen for a few minutes, putting the coffee on before peering into the fridge. He pulled some items out, placing them gently on the counter behind him. His back was turned towards you for the most part, and you couldn’t help but watch him as he moved. It was a nice view, you thought.  

 “Do you like eggs?” Tyler’s words interrupted your staring. “I have some bacon, too.”

“You’re making breakfast?” You asked, your tone sounding sharper than intended through your disbelief. First saving your life, then dinner, then a place to sleep, then comforting you during a nightmare, now breakfast… 

Tyler nodded, “I’m a breakfast guy. Unless you’re not hungry,” he said, backtracking quickly. “I just thought–” 

You could sense the panic in his voice, almost as if he was just as nervous as you. You quickly spoke up to reassure him. “No- I love breakfast. I just wasn’t expecting any, is all.”

Tyler subtly exhaled a breath of relief. “Yeah well, be sure to give me a five star review. I’m competing with the cockroach motel for business. Scrambled okay?” he asked, motioning towards the eggs. 

You nodded before taking a seat at the island. 

Tyler continued to work with his back to you, arms moving a bit as he scrambled the eggs that were cooking in the pan. When he was finished, he pulled out three plates and portioned some into each. Then he moved to throw the toast and sausage he’d also made on top. 

Because your brother wasn’t up yet, Tyler set a paper towel over his plate, preserving it for now before traveling to your side of the island and taking a seat right beside you. 

The two of you ate breakfast, your conversation never faltering. You talked about school– what you studied, who your roommates were. You talked about jobs and family– one conversation just naturally progressing to the next. 

After about half an hour, your brother staggered downstairs– his hair poking out in all directions informing you that he slept “like a baby.” Tyler listened to him talk about his dream– something about robots chasing tornadoes. Tyler asked him follow up questions, too– like what kind of robots they were and what kind of truck they used to chase the tornadoes. 

Tyler was kind of beautiful, you found yourself quickly realizing. Not that you hadn’t noticed how attractive he was before– of course you had… Practically the first moment you laid your eyes on him after your life was in danger. But Tyler smiled this giant smile as he let your brother talk his ear off about stuff you knew he couldn’t possibly care about. But he pretended to– and his eyes got crinkly and his laugh came straight from his belly. 

You supposed you could blame your fluttering stomach on the adrenaline still coursing through your system after being attacked by a tornado and then having a panic attack last night. Your skin felt electrified. But you knew that the trauma you’d endured had nothing to do with it. You knew it could only be Tyler that was making you feel this way. And you’d only known the man for about sixteen hours by now, but you couldn’t deny what you already felt for him.  

It felt easy with Tyler. And although you spent the night before pretending you were fine– you realized that you didn’t have to. He was someone you could just be authentic with. 

Your dad reached out to you shortly after seven, informing you he was on the road and would be in Stillwater just around noon. 

You found yourself dreading having to say goodbye to Tyler before the moment even came. 

In the meantime, he took the time to show your brother the horses, letting him spend as much time with them as he wanted. Then he gave him a full tour of the barn– chickens and cows alike. 

You were outside, watching your brother be brave enough to approach one of the horses that Tyler had ensured was friendly when his phone went off beside you.  

Tyler pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID before sliding his thumb across the screen. 

“Hey Boone,” he answered. “No, I haven’t looked yet. Why? Oh is it? Where?” 

You tried not to eavesdrop, but you really couldn’t help it. 

“What time are they thinking? Yeah, no. I’m busy until noon. Three’s perfect. Alright– see you then, bye.”

He slid his phone back in his pocket with ease, his attention falling to you. 

“Another tornado?” you asked, eyebrows raised skeptically. 

He smirked. “Can’t stop weather, New Hampshire. Invite’s still there if you wanna tag along.” 

…

Despite how badly you wanted time to stretch on forever, your father’s truck rode into the driveway just before after noon. 

Tyler took all your luggage downstairs and loaded it into the truck while the three of you reunited. You met your dad halfway between his car and the porch, letting him pull you in for a tight hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he murmured into your hair before reaching for your brother. When he was done embracing you both, he held his hand out towards Tyler. 

“Thank you, son,” he said genuinely. “For being there for them.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Tyler replied, shaking his hand firmly. 

To your surprise, after everything was loaded in the car, your brother ran right up to Tyler and wrapped his arms around his waist– offering him a hug. Your brother rarely showed affection to those within his family– let alone people outside of it. In your eyes, that was further evidence of how special Tyler really was. 

Tyler hugged him back before ruffling his hair affectionately. “Take care, bud. Thanks for helpin’ me with the horses today. You gonna come back and visit soon?”

He nodded eagerly– to your delight, the pair had exchanged numbers. 

“Alright c’mon,” your dad said, ushering your brother to the car and leaving you and Tyler alone. 

“What about you?” Tyler asked, taking a step closer to you. “Are you gonna come back and visit soon?” 

Your entire insides erupted– like molten lava was encasing everything inside of you. You could smell the aftershave he’d splashed on his neck and wanted nothing more than for it to just engulf you entirely. “That depends,” you said, standing your ground as he took another step forward. 

“On what?” he asked gently, reaching across the small space between you to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. It was a simple, yet incredibly intimate action that made your knees feel wobbly. 

“Are you going to drive me into the middle of a tornado?”

“I might.”

You smirked. “Well then, I guess I might come back.”

“Lord help me if you do, New Hampshire.”

You knew your dad was right behind you– but you couldn’t help but wish Tyler would kiss you right then and there– prove to you that he felt the same things you were feeling. Then maybe you could leave behind your dad and brother and stay a little longer with Tyler. But that was too big of a risk without the confirmation. You looked at him eagerly, willing him to say something. 

“So I guess I’ll see ya around,” he said, making your shoulders fall. 

It felt so final. 

“See ya around,” you replied, hating to admit how disappointed you actually felt. You offered him one final smile before turning around and jogging back towards your dad’s truck. 

…

“You’re an idiot,” your brother said from the backseat, catching you off guard. 

“Excuse me?” you said, turning to face him. 

“Why didn’t you stay? I heard Tyler invite you like three times.”

You frowned. “He didn’t mean it. He was just being nice.”

“I don’t think Tyler says things he doesn’t mean,” he said simply. 

You heard your dad let out a choked laugh from beside you. 

“I can’t just stay at Tyler’s house–” you said. “That’s crazy. We’re going back to Texas.”

“Actually, I already drove six hours today,” your dad said. “I really don’t want to drive another six, so I was planning on grabbing a hotel. We could just pick you up later,” he suggested. 

“Or not,” your brother piped in. 

You bit your lip– and really considered the possibility of taking Tyler up on his offer. But that was crazy– you barely knew him. What if he didn’t really mean it– what if he was just trying to be nice?

“I think you’re just afraid,” your brother said.

“Afraid?” you said with disbelief. “Of what?”

“Tornadoes, rejection, love… you name it.”

God, you hated being afraid. 

…

Tyler watched as your dad’s truck got smaller as it drove further away. He kicked himself for not trying harder, for not doing more to convince you to stay. He knew he couldn’t force you, and the last thing he wanted to be was too pushy, but damn he wished you’d taken the bait. 

He could’ve kissed you– God, he wanted to. But your dad’s gaze was lingering warily and he just couldn’t take the chance. What if you pulled away? What if you were insulted? What if he’d read all these signs totally wrong?

He’d never felt anything like how he felt around you. And he just knew that the sound of your laugh would hold a spot in his heart forever. 

But maybe this was how your story was supposed to end– like a tornado. No matter how badly he wanted it to last forever, eventually they all fizzled out to blue skies. 

Full of self-pity, Tyler was just about to turn and head back into the house when he saw the brake lights of your dad’s truck turn on. In the distance, he watched as you climbed carefully out of the front seat, hoist open the back door, and haul your luggage out. 

His heart fluttered at the sight. But when he saw you grab your bag and start jogging back towards him like you had a purpose, he felt like his chest might explode. 

You wanted to stay– 

With a newfound confidence, Tyler began running towards you, kicking up dirt and rocks as he went. 

When he reached you– just past the mailbox in the road, you offered him a small smile. 

“You came back,” he observed. 

You shrugged your shoulders, slightly out of breath. “I did.”

“Why?” he dared to ask. 

You paused, like you were really thinking about his question. After a moment, you said, “I think the one thing that scares me more than tornadoes right now is you,” you admitted to him. “And I really hate being afraid.”

Tyler was pleasantly surprised when you started stepping forward. He matched your efforts and soon– you were almost chest to chest. He glanced down at you with awe. 

“Some cocky YouTube star once told me that you should chase your fears,” you said breathlessly. 

Tyler couldn't contain the smile that was spreading across his entire face. “He sounds like a really smart guy, you should introduce me–”

“Will you shut up and please just kiss–” 

Before you could even get the words out, Tyler reacted the way his body wanted him to. Firmly but gently, he cupped your jaw with one hand, the other arm curling around your back. 

And then, right there on the lone dirt road that always had a way of feeling like home, he kissed you with everything he had. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

End-stage capitalism

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in BLOOMINGTON TODAY (Apr 4), and in PITTSBURGH on May 15. More tour dates here.

Karl Marx predicted that capitalism would eventually fail, torn apart by its own contradictions. He called the bourgeoisie, who epitomized these contradictions, capitalism's "grave diggers":

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

In the Communist Manifesto, Marx and Engels marvel at capitalism's adaptability, its ability to reinvent itself in the face of seemingly terminal crises and emerge in a new form. For nearly two centuries, Marxists have treated capitalism as an intermediate stage between feudalism and socialism – a lengthy, but still impermanent, regime whose purpose was to produce the systems of plenty that socialism would deliver to democratic control.

But as capitalism lurched from crisis to crisis, some Marxists speculated that capitalism would give way to something even worse. In 2023, Yanis Varoufakis proposed that capitalism might end up being a transitional phase between feudalism and another kind of feudalism – technofeudalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

But Trump's disastrous policies – tariffs, suspension of the rule of law, pointless military expansionism – doesn't serve Varoufakis's technofeudalism or any other kind of feudalism. As Hamilton Nolan writes, Trump represents a rupture of the customarily unshakable class solidarity of the wealthy. Trump's policies are not good for business. Trump is going to make America much, much poorer – and since the vast majority of American wealth is held by a tiny minority of very rich people, any program that vaporizes an appreciable fraction of American wealth will make a lot of rich people a lot poorer.

Hamilton Nolan wrote about this a couple days ago, enumerating all the ways that Trump – who LARPed a TV businessman – is extremely bad for business:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/divergence-from-the-interests-of

Gutting state capacity

As Nolan writes, there are plenty on the right who don't care about the idea that public education produces the skilled workers needed to run and expand the economy, and who believe that paving half the national parks and putting a $500/day admission price on the remainder will suit them just fine. But even the most hardcore plutocrat needs a functional immigration system so they can source workers who can do the jobs Americans won't – or can't – do. You can't be a finance guy in a country with a collapsed, corrupt Treasury Department that periodically reaches into institutional bank accounts and drains them of millions in pursuit of "obscure witch-hunts":

“stupidly breaking the parts of the government that allow our financial markets to function smoothly with no apparent plan" is not “populism” any more than a bite from an alligator is a kiss

Ending the rule of law

Anyone who claims to love "free markets" loves the rule of law. The predictability of a laws-based society is a necessary precondition for capital formation, long-term investing, and the use of contracts to coordinate business within a transparent, known set of rules.

Trump's lavish corruption – his crypto companies (which someone called "a tipjar for the Oval Office"), his sale of commutations and pardons to flagrant criminals, and his purging of Democrats within the DoJ to create space for "buffoons" who run his witch hunts – all offer good reason for investors to stay the hell out of America, and for businesses to get the hell out of the country:

https://thehill.com/homenews/senate/5182515-senate-democrats-complaint-ed-martin/

The spectacle of the top executives of world's most powerful multinationals openly paying bribes to Trump, while seated at Trump's own members' club, makes an eloquent case for seeking your business opportunities in another country – practically any other country:

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/mar/05/trump-dinner-mar-a-lago

Then there's Trump's interference in the Fed, "endangering financial markets for short term political gain":

https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/trump-bid-to-control-fed-puts-us-economy-at-risk-by-kenneth-rogoff-2025-01

And finally, there's his defiance of federal court orders, and his attacks on law firms that employ lawyers who had the temerity to sue him. As Nolan writes, "This is not good for business." Sure, it's grimly satisfying to think about all those rich fools who howled because Biden had the temerity to suggest modest tax hikes and improvements to labor law now having to watch as "the world’s most sophisticated corporate legal regime [is replaced] with a system in which you must grovel at his toes in a ridiculous red hat in order to get anything done."

Military adventures

Trump is apparently going to go to war with Iran, Canada, Denmark, Mexico, and several other countries to be determined at a later date. Sure, America's military spending is higher than all the rest of the world's combined, but getting involved in several wars at once is – once again – not good for business. For one thing, he's going to kill Boeing, Lockheed, and all the other US-based arms dealers that rely on a friendly relationship with America's erstwhile allies for billions of dollars per year in business. Things are no better for the companies that do other kinds of business with the countries America is apparently on the brink of war with. This kind of "Hitlerian" program of economic growth was a failure in the previous century, and it will fail again:

Did Hitler’s wild invasions ultimate make Germany richer? No. They started a world war. And, no matter what anyone tells you, world war is not good for business.

Tariffs

Finally, there's Trump's deranged tariff plan. As David Dayen writes for The American Propsect, these aren't really tariffs at all – they're sanctions, punishments visited upon every country in the world (even uninhabited islands!) for a bunch of imaginary crimes:

https://prospect.org/economy/2025-04-03-theyre-not-tariffs-theyre-sanctions/

Trump's tariffs make no sense as an economic policy, but they are familiar to anyone who's spent time around organized crime (like, say, Trump):

https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2016/05/donald-trump-2016-mob-organized-crime-213910/

Dayen likens Trump's approach to "a mob boss moving into town and sending his thugs to every business on Main Street, roughing up the proprietors and asking for protection money so they don’t get pushed out of business." Trump's demands – such as they are – include forcing America's trading partners to do away with their privacy, food safety and antitrust laws:

https://tacd.org/wp-content/uploads/TACD-Statement-Tariffs-3-April.pdf

Even if it was worth it for other countries to dismantle their laws to enjoy continued access to US markets (it isn't), no one trusts that giving in to Trump means that he'll carry out his end of the bargain. As Brad DeLong reminds us, Trump personally negotiated the USMCA terms that Canada and Mexico have been living under since he last left office, and those are the two countries he's most pissed off at:

https://braddelong.substack.com/p/draft-mar-a-lago-discord

This isn't capitalism – it's gangsterism. It's a system that will annihilate trillions of dollars in value to put billions of dollars in the pockets of Trump and a few of his cronies – at the expense of all the other rich people.

Nolan concludes that Trump is "insane" – that his actions are irrational, disconnected from reality, impossible to understand. For Nolan, the question isn't "What is Trump trying to accomplish?" It's "how has this insane man managed to gain control of the government of the world’s richest and most powerful nation?"

He's got a hell of an answer, too:

That, my friends, is the unfortunate outcome of an economic system that has so profoundly failed to enforce economic equality, and a political system that so profoundly failed to protect its democracy from the influence of capital that it allowed itself to be totally captured by extreme lunatics backed by extreme wealth.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog: https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/04/anything-that-cant-go-on/#forever-eventually-stops

[chilling-seavey]

Dreamland (ln4) - Part Two

↳ A/N Thank you to my girl @grandprixwinnerlandonorris for delivering me like 5000 pictures of Lando in a button up at my request and, as always, being the proofreader for this universe hehe

↳ [Loosely] Inspired By: 'Don't Wake Me Up' by Why Don't We

↳ Summary: With a freshly purchased copy of your most recent book in hand, Lando is one of the first in line for your book signing when your tour brings you to Bristol. Having dreamt about you for months, he’s more than nervous to actually speak to you in person but he certainly gets more than he bargained for

↳ Pairings: Fanboy Lando Norris x Famous!Author!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n), University Student Lando x Internet Friend George x Internet Friend Alex

↳ Word Count: 20.7k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, not elaborating on details here for the sake of spoilers!, dirty talk gets nasty, Lando's so incredibly down bad for a girl who doesn't know he exists

PART ONE

Lando stared at his reflection in the mirror as he tucked his button-up shirt into his black slacks, eyeing up each inch of himself for the uncountable time that morning. He tugged at the fabric of his shirt that was bordering on a size too small, hugging his torso just a little more than he'd like, silently willing it to not make him look absolutely ridiculous. He tried to take a few deep breaths as he fed his black belt into the loops on his pants and fastened the buckle at the front but even his hands were feeling a little shaky with nerves. 

As spring melted into summer, Lando’s semester was coming to an end just when your newest book tour was to begin. He had his eye out for any England dates the moment the tour was announced and much to his relief, there was a local date on the schedule. Much to his absolute horror, however, he had a final exam assigned that very same morning. With the help of his two closest internet friends, Alex and George, Lando planned that day down to the minute in order to attend his exam while still making the book signing in good enough time to get a good spot in line.

His 11:00 class was across campus and for the first time almost ever, Lando was the first one there. He looked far too dressed up for someone about to take a practical exam but he had some very important things to do right after class and thus was prepared to wear his best clothes no matter what. He had someone to impress, after all. 

By 2:00 on the dot, the exam was complete and Lando - who had been waiting impatiently at his desk with a finished exam in front of him - nearly ran out the door the moment they were dismissed and he threw his papers on the professor’s desk on the way past. The university hallways were annoyingly crowded and Lando was pushing past people to make it to the transit station down the street to catch the 2:16 bus, his backpack slung over one shoulder in his haste. 

It was a stunning day in comparison to England’s usually drizzly weather and the sun was tucked behind picturesque white clouds that made Lando feel like this entire day was a dream. He figured the weather cleared up into beautiful skies for the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He was anxious to see you in person after so many long months of distant adoration. 

The bus was still at the stop when Lando ran across the street without a second glance to catch it, pulling his wallet out of his pocket as he did so and flashed the driver his transit pass as he hopped inside. Lando breathed out a soft ‘thank you’ to the driver for waiting for him and then he went to find a seat. The bus lurched forward and he caught himself on one of the poles before swinging himself into an empty aisle right by the large window to catch his breath. 

It was a bit of a drive into the city so Lando pulled out his phone and turned on his data to refresh his messages on Instagram. The group chat was waiting for him.

alex_albon: Good luck, mister accountant!  georgerussell63: Good luck mate! Get this shit out of the way and you’ll get the best reward later 😏 alex_albon: Hahahaha alex_albon: Mate are you done yet?? alex_albon: Did you make the bus?? georgerussell63: RUN LANDO RUN georgerussell63: Love how we don’t care about how his exam went, just that he catches this bus alex_albon: We have great priorities  georgerussell63: Yeah I don’t want this wedding suit I bought to go to waste y’know  alex_albon: Mate I’m literally so sad that we couldn’t go with him georgerussell63: I know georgerussell63: We look like shitty wingmen now alex_albon: Never! landonorris: MADE THE BUS!! landonorris: I don’t even remember what the fuck my exam was even about I was rushing but I made it landonorris: Waterstones, here I come!!!! alex_albon: YESSS!!! georgerussell63: LETS GOOOOO alex_albon: Fit pic?? What did you go with??

Lando glanced around him to make sure no one on the bus was looking as he snapped a picture of his chest and lap to show his outfit to his two friends. 

landonorris: *sent an image* georgerussell63: Yesss mans looks dashing alex_albon: If she doesn’t jump at you across that table, there is something wrong with her landonorris: Oh my god there’s nothing wrong with her landonorris: Just wanna make sure I look my best landonorris: And she said once she likes guys in dress pants so… georgerussell63: You wore dress pants landonorris: Lol yep alex_albon: You’re a complete simp, Lan alex_albon: Love you for that landonorris: I just hope I don’t freeze up or embarrass myself landonorris: I’m going in all alone here lol alex_albon: You literally have all the backup from us through your phone georgerussell63: Definitely!  georgerussell63: What’s your game plan anyway?? landonorris: Idk really landonorris: I don’t want to come across too fan-y landonorris: Tell her she’s a literal genius  landonorris: Tell her that she’s stunning landonorris: That her books are the only ones that I actually read alex_albon: And that you want her to mother your children georgerussell63: HAHA landonorris: If it moulds smoothly into conversation, sure LMAO landonorris: I’m just trying to not get my hopes up for earth shattering conversation or anything but it’s hard georgerussell63: Just be confident and be you georgerussell63: You’re literally a great guy so she’s bound to see that

Lando glanced up from his phone for a moment as the warmth of the afternoon sun hit his face and he peered out the window at the busy city traffic that had slowed the bus to a near stop. 

landonorris: Bruh we just hit traffic alex_albon: Oh shit how far are you georgerussell63: Can you walk it? landonorris: No way still too far

Lando pressed his face against the glass to attempt to see farther down the street if the traffic would clear but it wasn’t showing much at his angle. 

landonorris: Shit I’m literally panicking landonorris: I need to see her today like I can’t miss this georgerussell63: Panicking won’t help just take some breaths alex_albon: I’m putting so many positive vibes into the universe right now georgerussell63: You’ll get there, don’t worry landonorris: The signing is over at 4 and it’s already pushing 3 landonorris: Oh my God I’m going to cry alex_albon: Noooo! No crying no crying alex_albon: Traffic always feels like it takes longer than it actually does georgerussell63: Yeah! Just go over your gameplan a bit! Distract yourself alex_albon: You have the book with you already right landonorris: Yeah ofc landonorris: Bought hardcover off her amazon site last week landonorris: Honestly this was her best one yet georgerussell63: You say that about every book she releases lol landonorris: Mate no this time I mean it landonorris: There was this chapter that was so fucking hot I had to take a cold shower after georgerussell63: PFFF omfg  alex_albon: No spoilers!! I haven’t read it yet landonorris: Haha okok sorry landonorris: Hurry up though because I want to talk about it with someone georgerussell63: Mate I graduate in a week and then I’ll read it I swear alex_albon: We didn’t have to rush to read it because we’re not the ones about to MEET HER georgerussell63: AYYYY landonorris: 🥰🥰

The next stop that was called through the bus speakers was Lando’s - much to his relief - and in quick surprise he reached up to pull the cord to request the stop. He slid his phone back in his pocket and stood up with a secure hand on the bar as he walked towards the doors before the bus had even stopped, already far past impatient to get to his destination already. When the doors slid open, he called his thank you to the bus driver and hopped out onto the busy Bristol sidewalks in the afternoon sun.

landonorris: brb finally on foot now

Since living outside the city for most of his life, Lando was familiar with his way around and he barely even needed the directions from his phone to help guide him towards the nearest Waterstones bookstore. Well, also partially due to the fact that he had gone over his route almost every day since the book tour dates and locations were announced. 

Lando reached the book store just after 3:00 and there was still an insanely long line looping from the front doors of the store and down the sidewalk. Lando paused in place for a moment, his heart sinking at the time in comparison to the number of people still waiting, and it wasn’t until a stranger bumped him out of the way that he snapped back into place. With a shaky breath, Lando hurried down the line and took spot at the end behind two girls who were about his age as well. They each held copies of the new release and were flipping through it together and talking between them about the plot. 

Lando cleared his throat nervously and leaned slightly towards them, “Excuse me, this is the line for the singing, right?”

They both looked back at him with smiles suddenly flat as if his interruption was distasteful, and they gave him a look up and down, lingering on his scuffed up white Vans on his feet. 

“Yeah.” one answered finally. 

Lando pulled a tight smile and nodded once, “Great. Thanks.”

He felt a little stupid standing in a line of teenage and young adult women as the only few males were so clearly only there to accompany their girlfriends. But the momentary out-of-place feeling was soon replaced easily by nervous excitement as Lando caught a glimpse of the sign on the front window of the store that showed your most recent professional headshot and the announcement of the book release and signing; “TODAY ONLY!” it read. 

Lando was nearly silently begging to make it inside, to at least get a glimpse of you in the flesh, although a small part of him was rising with so much nervousness that he kind of hoped he wouldn’t have to face you. He didn’t want to run away now, not when he came so far. 

landonorris: *sent an image* landonorris: In line now!! Look how fucking long this thing is alex_albon: She’s going to be saying that about you someday! georgerussell63: ALEX LMAO  landonorris: Pfjfjf stop omg landonorris: I’m literally the only guy here though georgerussell63: That’s good georgerussell63: Makes you stand out! alex_albon: More those stunning good looks already do georgerussell63: You are damn right, Albono 😌🔥 landonorris: I’m so fucking nervous boys georgerussell63: Blimey you know he’s serious when our jokes don’t make him laugh alex_albon: Focus on that confidence!! You got this mate

The line was moving slowly but surely and Lando was soon stepping into the front vestibule of the store. He swung his backpack around to unzip it and pull out his hardcover copy of the recent release and then zipped his bag back up again. His was one of the only few hardcovers in line - he noted that the girls directly in front of him and behind him had paperbacks - and that fact brought a strange sense of pride to his consciousness. There weren’t too many people in line behind him as time was drawing closer to closing but the distance that Lando still had to the signing table was vast and his nervousness of meeting you was starting to mould into nervousness that he wouldn’t meet you. 

He was too anxious to even check his group chat messages and he tried to stay as in the moment as possible, rising up on his tiptoes to see if he could get a glimpse of the table where you had been sitting for the last three hours. Other fans rushed past him on their way out the door, bearing signed copies of books and over-the-table selfies on their phone screens and Lando tried not to let the jealousy overcome him. Impatient jealousy wasn’t a good look and Lando tugged anxiously at the front of his collared shirt a little to get some air across his body, hoping he wasn’t about to nervous-sweat through his shirt. That would have been embarrassing.

The line inched up some more and as Lando’s spot moved into the store completely and past the main aisle towards the lounge, he was able to spot you in the distance. It was almost like he scared himself at the fact that he saw you and he dropped back down onto his flat feet from his tiptoes with a soft gasp, eyes wide, heart racing. The two girls in front of him gave him a weird look before turning back to their conversation. After his initial shock, he rose up onto his tiptoes again to see over the shelves of books he would never read across the store and let his eyes find your table at the head of the line. 

You were in a black blazer and an emerald green buttoned blouse and your hair fell in natural waves over your shoulders and Lando swore to himself that you looked even more beautiful in person than on Instagram. He clutched your novel to his chest and rested back on his feet again, biting his smitten grin to the carpeted floor of the bookstore. He didn’t want to look away from you as if he had to soak up each second like it was precious. He didn’t have long and who knew when he was going to see you again. 

As quarter to four approached, the line felt no shorter and Lando was getting antsy and his feet were getting sore from waiting around for so long. He was about at the spot where he didn’t have to lean to get a good look at you and his eyes stared right at you almost without blinking like the simple sight of you put him in a trance. It almost felt like he was dreaming. 

You were so happy, smiling at every person who passed over their copy of your book for a signature and talking to them graciously and modestly accepting compliments. Lando swore your polite little laugh was the sweetest sound and he was completely yearning to just get to the front of the line already. 

But then another woman approached you at your table and leaned down to whisper something to you as you smiled in parting with the girl who just received her book back. You nodded to the woman who Lando recognised as your assistant from a few of your Instagram stories and then you stood up from your chair to address the crowd. 

“Sorry, guys, I know you’ve been waiting a while but I have to take a call really quickly. Give me a few minutes…I’ll be right back!” 

Lando swore his heart nearly stopped in the momentary fear that your initial apology was about to be followed with a ‘times up’ but he took a deep breath and checked the time. It was 3:53 but he would wait for you for as long as you needed, he didn’t mind one bit. 

He opened Instagram again for the first time in a little bit and checked the messages from his friends,

alex_albon: Any updates for us?? georgerussell63: Yeah how close are you? alex_albon: Lando?? georgerussell63: Omg he’s probably talking to her right now alex_albon: He probably is  alex_albon: I’m literally so excited for him georgerussell63: This is insane!!!! landonorris: She’s so beautiful landonorris: Not at the front yet but close alex_albon: Jeez that’s a long line georgerussell63: It’s almost 4…are they going to cut you off?? landonorris: Idk idk idk landonorris: 

Lando’s attention was pulled from his messages to the conversation of the girls who stood in front of him in line. 

“We’ve literally been waiting for an hour and she just blows us off for a fucking phone call.”

“What a bitch.”

“Everyone with a blue check on Instagram is the fucking same.”

“So entitled, honestly, she takes our money and then dips.”

Lando spoke up before he could even think, jumping strongly in protectiveness, “Hey. Don’t say that.” 

The girls turned to him with mirrored expressions of annoyance and surprise at his sudden interruption. 

Lando continued, “She literally just had to take a call. Can you give her a few minutes? She’s been sitting here all day for us.” 

One of the girls snorted in sarcastic amusement at Lando’s defence, “Okay, whatever.”

The other added, “Do what you want, but I’m not waiting here like a fucking lameass follower for her to take a phone call like she’s entitled to make us stand around like sheep.” 

They both didn’t give Lando a second look before they were stepping out of line and walking right out of the store. A few more people did the same as 4:00 came and went and it honestly shocked Lando that they weren’t ready and willing to sit by and wait a few more minutes for her…shocked that a few people thought it was a ruse that she played off to leave early. But Lando waited even as the line thinned. He would wait until store closing if he had to. 

By the time you returned to the table, there were only six more people in front of him and one behind him and Lando was trying so hard not to grin ear to ear at simply the sight of you. As if nothing was different and the line wasn’t measly now, you still looked just as content there at your table with a sharpie in hand, offering casual conversation to each person who approached. 

It was nearly 4:30 by the time Lando was next in line and as if reality hit him all at once, his feet wouldn’t move the moment your eyes locked with his. 

“Hey.” you said sweetly. 

Lando’s left foot scuffed over the carpet in an attempt to walk and then he forced himself towards you, “Hey.” 

Despite his racing heart, he was grinning so wide and his obvious excitement had you smiling right back from your chair as you held out your hand to take his book. 

“How are you?” he asked nervously and passed over his copy of the novel. 

“I am doing well, thanks so much for asking.” you replied easily. 

He watched you carefully as you set the novel down so gently on the wooden table top, perfectly square with the edge. 

“A hardcover. They’re my favourite too.” you said with a smile and brushed your hand over the crisp clean cover and then opened it to the first blanket page. “Haven’t seen many of these today.”

“I noticed.” Lando said. “I don’t know why because your hardcover designs are just so fucking stunning. I don’t know who’d choose a paperback.”

You chuckled softly, “Exactly. Glad to know someone has taste.” 

“It’s hard not to when you are literally a genius.”

His copy of your novel left open to the inside cover in front of you, you shared casual conversation for a moment - something he noticed about you was that you never rushed anyone when they were at the table with you. Lando didn’t want to take up too much of your time either, you were already over your time limit. But you listened politely to him, sharpie tucked between your fingers and wrist resting on the open book as he spoke. 

“I don’t read, like, ever…but the moment I skimmed the first page of your first novel I was completely hooked. I couldn’t tell you a single thing about any other book in this entire store. You just write in a way that completely speaks to me like nothing else ever has.”

Lando didn’t even know what he was saying as his words tumbled from his lips for him. 

“That is so kind.” you smiled bashfully. “I’m glad I could offer you some kind of entertainment in a style that you don’t normally turn to.”

“Entertainment? God, you offer me entire worlds. I wish I had an outlet as strong and promising as yours.” 

“What do you do as your outlet?”

Lando hadn’t expected to talk about himself but of course he was going to answer your question,

“Oh, uh…golf, I guess? Racing? Video games…”

It sounded so stupid coming out of his mouth as he said it - how incredibly lame and boring. 

“Racing? Like, cars?”

Lando’s smile brightened, staring right back at your pretty face, “Yeah, something like that.”

“That’s impressive…and it could make for an interesting plot. Maybe I should write a book about that…you might have just inspired me.” you wagged the end of your sharpie at him with a mischievous grin. 

Lando’s cheeks turned a fierce pink and he scoffed bashfully, “Nah.”

“I mean it! If I ever need any race-related questions answered for research purposes, I know who to call.”

Lando laughed lightly, “Yeah, for sure.”

You glanced back down to the book and tapped the blank page awaiting your pen, “Who am I making this out to?”

“Lando.” 

“Lando.” you repeated in the most gentle tone that it nearly made his knees weak. He had dreamt about how his name would sound coming from your lips for so long but hearing it directed at him so softly, so tenderly, he had to refrain from clutching his hand to his heart in sheer adoration. He also had to refrain from imagining you breathing it into the air just like that in bed but that was a bit more dramatic. 

“How’s your day been? I got so excited about the hardcover I forgot to ask.” you chuckled as he watched you sign his name in silver sharpie on the dark inside page and scribbled a little message before signing it yourself at the bottom. 

“Oh, my day is amazing now.” Lando said easily, “Bristol is usually so disgustingly dreary but I’m glad it’s sunny for you.”

“I’ve heard it’s usually quite rainy. Guess it’s a bit of luck then.” you smiled up at him. 

You closed the cover of his copy of your novel and held it back out to him. 

“Thank you so much.” he rushed out as he took it back. “I’m sorry you had to stay after your time.”

“Oh my gosh,” you waved your hand like it was no big deal, “there’s nothing I love more than this so it’s my pleasure. Plus staying around longer means I got to meet you, so…”

Lando literally blushed pink so obviously that you could see the hint of colour across his cheeks and his little bashful smile had you grinning up at him. It wasn’t often you had boys come out to see you and certainly not the likes of interested and attractive young men who actually read your content. It nearly made you feel just as pink in the cheeks too. 

“Did you want a selfie or something?” you asked. 

Lando stumbled over words for a moment as he had completely forgotten that he could ask that and he pulled out his phone, “Yeah, sure.” 

He carefully hid the fact that you were his wallpaper from your sight as he opened his camera app and turned to have his back to you. You leaned up to rest slightly over the table and smiled to the camera as he clicked a few pictures. 

“Oh, I look…like shit.” he mumbled to himself as he turned back around to face you once more and you sat down. 

He hadn’t expected you to hear but you did so you offered an honest polite, “You don’t look like shit at all, I think you look really good.” 

Lando literally breathed out a shocked, “Oh my gosh.” 

You giggled softly at his surprised expression. 

“Th-Thank you.” he stumbled out and petted a habitual hand over his hair-sprayed curls as he looked down at his outfit. 

“I love the slacks.” you gestured across the table. 

Lando nearly lost it at the fact that you were basically staring at his dick and he held the hardcover book in front of himself casually, and answered with a passé, “Thought I’d actually dress a little nice for your event.”

“Yeah? Well you look very nice.” you complimented, “A very successful choice.” 

“Thanks.”

You held up your index finger to him, “One sec.”

The one person behind him was still waiting close by and you held out your hand welcoming them to come over. Lando shifted to the side a little and tried to control the heat of his cheeks as you took the next person’s name. It was a mother waiting for the signing as a gift for her daughter so she didn't really need to stick around long after simply getting a signature and after a few shared pleasantries, the lady was off and Lando was the only one left. 

“Sorry, I just thought I’d get that poor mother on her way.” you chuckled. 

“For sure.” Lando smiled tightly. 

“Looks like that’s my day then.” you sighed, stretching your arms above your head for a moment, and then leaned under the table to pull out an empty cardboard box. You started to load your leftover copies into it - only a few remaining - and Lando jumped at his opportunity. 

“Do you need help packing up?”

Surprised at his offer, you glanced back up at him with a little laugh, “I’m not going to make you do my work.”

“I really don't mind. I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

You thought for a moment and Lando nearly held his breath in anticipation for your answer. 

Finally, “Alright…if you’re sure.” 

He honestly grinned and tucked his book and his backpack on the ground carefully beside one of the table legs and started to stack up the remaining few novels as you tidied your pamphlets and extra sharpies. Your hired assistant took the half filled box across the store to return it to the cashier for re-stocking, finally giving you and Lando a moment just the two of you on opposite sides of the now empty table. 

You stood from your chair and tucked it back under while you checked your phone habitually and Lando picked up his things from the ground. He tucked his book in front of his slacks again coolly. 

“Where are you headed now? More publicity meetings?” Lando asked. 

You glanced up at him as you slid your phone into your purse with a sigh, “Nope. Dinner and then hotel. Quiet evening for one tonight.”

“Your assistant doesn’t join you?”

You chuckled softly and picked up your tote bag to sling it over your arm, “No she’s kinda older than me so she does her own thing. I don’t mind. Means I can explore the city as I wish.” 

“Do you…want some pointers on the best places in Bristol? I’m kind of an expert.” Lando offered. 

“You want to be my food tour guide?” you chuckled, “I was just going to eat at the McDonalds down the street. I’m not much of an extensive-palette kind of eater.”

“Oh, neither am I.” Lando agreed quickly, passing off the fact that he already knew that about you quickly, “But if you’re in Bristol, you gotta do it the right way. You like Italian?” 

Your eyes narrowed at him in thought and you cocked your head to the side slightly, a smile teasing at your lips, “My favourite.” 

“Then you have to try Giovanni’s. It’s not far from here. Like a kilometre north or so. Their pizza is, like, incredible.” 

You contemplated his offer with a casual, “Just a kilometre from here?”

“Yeah. You can’t miss it. Any taxi driver will know if you just give them the name.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.” Lando swayed onto the balls of his feet and then back, his nervous eyes lingering on your unreadable expression of amusement as you stared back at him. He pressed his luck, “I can…show you if you want.”

You smiled at him softly as you looked at him down the bridge of your nose, “I dunno…I don’t really know you.” 

“You know my name. What else is there to know?”

You laughed lightly, “You could be a murderer.” 

“So could you.”

“Touché.” 

Lando figured he was grasping for straws with his offer and hardly even took himself seriously until suddenly you were sitting across from him at a table for two at Giovanni’s Italian Restaurant. He hardly remembered the taxi ride from the bookstore or even you agreeing to have dinner with him honestly and part of him felt so hazy like this was some sort of cruel realistic dream. His phone was the last thing on his mind but he managed to send a quick update to the group chat as the hostess led you to your table. 

landonorris: Giovanni’s  landonorris: dinner landonorris: ttyl

With his phone on silent, he was ignorant to his best friends’ spam of confused messages as they knew he should have been finished with the signing by then and they had yet to receive proper updates of how it went. Usually Lando messaged them while he was eating his meals so his sudden disappearance was certainly odd. 

But how could he even think about looking at his phone when he had you sitting across from him in the warm light of the cozy Italian restaurant to look at. It was no fancy venue but it was better than a McDonalds and Lando had to constantly remind himself that this wasn’t a date but this also wasn’t a dream. 

You looked so casual skimming the menu, tucking your hair behind your ear before resting the side of your finger against your lips in thought. They were little habits that social media didn’t permit him to see and now he just couldn’t get enough of you, sitting right in front of him in your business casual outfit and free flowing hair. He felt greedy for wanting you closer. 

The waiter approached the table to take drink orders and you glanced up to place yours first, “Whatever your house wine is…I’ll have a glass of that, please and thank you.”

“May I see your ID?”

“Of course.” you fished it out of your purse and passed it to the waiter to double check. 

When he handed it back to you and turned to Lando, Lando shifted nervously. 

“Just…a water, thanks.” he asked. Playing it safe. 

You tucked your ID back into your purse and offered a casual conversation, “Maybe I should have had water too but after a full day of work, I think I deserve a drink.”

“You do.” Lando chuckled, “You deserve to celebrate.”

“If I used that excuse anything like this signing happened, I may be considered to have a drinking problem.” 

Lando chuckled lightly, sharing in your smile, and when you turned back to your menu, he kept staring at you. 

“You said the pizza is good here, right?”

He hummed in agreement as he rested his elbows on the table and his chin in his hand and shamelessly kept his eyes on your entire being. The warm light looked so good on you and it took a lot out of him to not think about salacious thoughts that often rose to the surface when he stared at a picture of you for too long. He was just lucky that the table covered enough of his lap.

You glanced over at him with your offer, “Do you want to share one?” 

As if in kindergarten again, the concept of sharing brought a flutter to his heart, “Yeah, sure. That sounds great.”

The waiter soon returned and you let Lando choose the pizza to order and with that placed, you were left with your drinks and a moment of silence. You sipped your wine and he sipped his water, keeping his eyes on the table. 

“Did you not want something better than water?” you asked. 

Lando shifted in his chair and chuckled awkwardly, “Uh, no, that’s okay. I’m not much of a drinker…don’t really know what to order that won’t taste like shit.”

Your eyes widened, “Shit, oh my God, wait, you are of age, aren’t you?”

“I’m twenty.” Lando assured you quickly.

You set your hand to your chest, “Jesus, okay, good, I almost had a heart attack there…I saw the frightful headlines already.” 

“Like what?” Lando laughed, “Calling you a cougar?”

“Oh, gross.” you shuttered, “Yeah, prying on the youth of my following.”

Lando rested his chin in his hand again and he smiled over at you, “Nope, I’m perfectly legal.”

“Good.” you chuckled. You glanced around and then slid your glass across the table to him, “Try some if you want.”

Lando’s eyes went wide and he sat up a bit straighter, “You sure?” 

“Yeah.”

Lando sent you a small smile across the table and he lifted the wine glass from the table and took a sip. He licked his lips as he set it back down and you left it between you to share. 

You smiled warmly over at him. He wanted to look back at you but your lingering stare made him nervous and he sat with his hands folded on his lap with his gaze downcast to the tabletop. The restaurant bustled around you with other patrons talking and cutlery clinking against plates but Lando felt like the two of you were in your own little bubble. 

Breaking the silence between you, you spoke, “Do you perm your hair?”

Lando’s head snapped up to look over at you in surprise, “What?”

You gestured across the table to him, “The curls? Is that your natural hair? It’s a really nice style on you.”

Lando was speechless for a moment, mouth literally parted slightly in shock, and when he regained himself, he spoke his honest confession to you, “Yeah. Yeah, this is my natural hair. I’m surprised you like it.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Why surprised?”

“I dunno,” Lando mumbled, tracing the rim of his water glass with his finger, “I figured you were, like, not really into the messy curls kinda look.”

“Why?” a smirk tugged at your lips, “Because of my boyfriend?”

Lando looked to his plate without a word as his heart clenched with that awful tightness that came with the heartache of the mention of your relationship. He was hoping you wouldn’t bring him up - guess it was too good to be true.

“Wanna know a secret?” you rested your forearms on the table to lean towards him, “I trust you.”

He glanced back up at you curiously and nodded lightly, hazel eyes wide with wonder of what you were going to admit to him. 

“He’s not actually my boyfriend. It’s a PR relationship.” 

Lando could have fucking rejoiced out loud in that moment and he audible sighed in near relief as he slouched back in his chair, “Oh my gosh, I knew something was fishy.” 

“We were dating for real but when it kind of fell off, our managers kind of just said we should keep it going because the followers shipped us or whatever the hell. I’m never around him if we can help it. It’s just awkward now.” 

Lando, surged with a strange feeling of protectiveness, leaned over the table himself too, “Why would they make you do that if it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I dunno. It’s fine though. My readership goes up from overlap with his fans and whatever so the selfish part of me benefits.” you chuckled with a shrug. 

“But you can’t publicly date then? Since the world thinks you’re taken?” 

“No, but that’s okay.” you waved your hand casually as if to brush it off, “I’m kinda too busy for all that right now with my book tour and stuff.”

You both reached for the glass of wine at the same time and shared nervous giggles when your hands brushed. You offered him the next sip and he ignored the warm reminisce of your touch as he lifted the glass to his lips and sipped the bitter woodsy red wine before passing it over to you. He couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from simply being around you or if they were red from the bit of alcohol but you were no different. There was something so intriguing to you about Lando, this random young man who lined up for your book signing and seemed to care far too strongly about you and your work for his own good. It flattered you greatly and you didn’t want to see him go. 

By the time your pizza had arrived and you were well into casual dinner conversation, any hints of shyness had disappeared as you were both falling into comfort in each other’s presence…maybe the wine helped a little with that, just enough to take the edge off. Lando was talking about his degree he was working towards and life at college while you shared the best stories of how many times you were declined trying to get published for the first time. With only just less than a year between you, you had quite a bit in common from growing up and although life took you in different paths, it was interesting to hear the other side of things. You had to admit it was a nice change from the common whiny influencers you had gotten too used to sharing conversations with. 

Lando could draw you in with just his voice, soft yet just perfectly deep, he was only enticing you more and more with each sentence. Not to mention the way he spoke about your writing like he was just as proud of it as you were, rambling on for so long about each book, each character, each deeper meaning, and you went back and forth about your writing until the pizza was gone and the shared glass of wine was empty and the sun had gone down over Bristol. 

The waiter set the bill on the table between you, tucked neatly in a leather pouch. You reached for your purse but Lando was already grabbing the bill and giving it a skim over. 

“I got it.” you offered. 

“No, it’s okay.” Lando reached into his backpack that was resting at the foot of the table beside him and he pulled out his wallet with his credit card. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can pay for dinner.” you chuckled. 

Lando smiled boastfully over at you, “Nope. My city, you’re a guest. I’m paying.”

“Well then I wouldn’t have ordered such an expensive glass of wine!” you tisked. 

“Then it was very good that we shared it!” Lando whispered across the table at you as the waiter returned with the debit machine. 

You only smiled at him and shook your head in defeat as Lando paid the bill on his student income and he did so proudly, without hesitation. When the waiter left once again and wished you both a pleasant night, you thanked him and then looked across the table to each other. 

Lando’s heart ached slightly at the thought of having to say goodbye as the night came to an early conclusion but he smiled softly at you, ignorant to how you were thinking the exact same thing. 

“I’m just going to sneak off to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” you said. 

Lando nodded you off and watched you walk across the still busy restaurant to the washrooms. He finally pulled his phone from his pocket for the first time all evening, having missed an unreadable amount of pestering messages from his two best friends. He only took the time to read the most recent two,

alex_albon: Lando what the fuck mate where are you?? It’s almost 7 georgerussell63: Holding back the updates is one thing but let us know if you are at least back at your dorm landonorris: I took her for dinner landonorris: Can’t really talk but I swear I’ll tell you everything the second I leave georgerussell63: WHAT alex_albon: ARE YOU JOKING?? landonorris: IM LITERALLY NOT JOKING landonorris: WE SHARED WINE AND EVERYTHING alex_albon: HOLY SHIT LAN georgerussell63: WAIT IM LITERALLY FREAKING OUT georgerussell63: How did that happen??? Oh my GOD MATE your plan literally WORKED alex_albon: Get her number!! Or at least her follow on ig! landonorris: I'm gonna try

When he saw you emerging from the bathroom again he typed a quick reply to his friends before locking his phone again and tucked it into his pocket. 

landonorris: Gtg talk later

You returned to the table and sat back down, sending him a polite smile as you did so. Always one to take notice of every little thing about you, Lando silently noted your tidied up hair and re-applied lipstick and his heart did a little jump at the concept that maybe you tried to look good for him. 

“What’s your plan for the rest of the night?” you asked casually. 

Lando shrugged, “Nothing. I was just going to go back to my dorm and make dinner by myself and eat it by myself and watch Netflix by myself.”

“Wow, our plans sounded really similar then.” you teased. 

“Yeah, apparently.” Lando chuckled. 

You both hesitated a moment, glancing out towards the front windows of the restaurant that looked out over the darkening city streets of Bristol. Lando felt at a loss for words, nervous suddenly, and he was thankful to still have his water on the table as he took a long drink. He was just so handsome to you and only seemed more so as the night went on from being the hesitant fanboy at your book signing to the young man you shared a glass of wine with at dinner. 

Lando looked back at you and you shared tight, slightly awkward smiles as if neither of you wanted to say goodbye first. You weren’t someone to often go out with strangers so this was uncharted territory for you and Lando seemed just as uncertain of himself in a similar sense. You just kind of wanted to see how far you could push it without crossing boundaries. 

“Listen,” you cleared your throat bravely, looking right at him with a hopeful smile, “I dunno if you’re comfortable with this but…if you want, you can come back to my hotel with me. Maybe we could stick with our individual ‘watch Netflix’ plans but…together.” 

“Really?” Lando’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“If you want to.”

“Yes. Absolutely.” he assured you almost quickly. 

“Okay.” you bit back a smile. “I’ll call an Uber.” 

“Sweet.” Lando grinned, although he had to turn away from smiling too wide. 

Maybe this was his chance, he thought, to actually make a bit of a move; why else would you be inviting him to your private hotel room after all? This was the last thing he had prepared for that morning and he had no clue what he was going to do with himself if anything went any farther than even a kiss. He didn’t want to absolutely embarrass himself in any way, certainly not around you. His inexperience was apparent and he was just hoping he could play it off enough to not look like a clumsy idiot. 

Waiting at the curb for your Uber, Lando was standing right at your side. He intentionally stood close to you until he could almost convince himself to reach out and brush his fingers over yours if he really wanted to. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and your purse and tote were on your opposite arm from him, your gaze looking back and forth down the street for the arrival of your Uber. Lando kept staring at you in the city light, disbelieving that he was really standing right there with you and about to go back to your hotel after a dinner for two. Life was unreal in that moment. 

His eyes drifted down your side to where your hand rested casually at your side and he just had to reach out and brush his pinky against yours. You glanced over at him with a small smile and nudged him in return. 

“You probably hear this a lot,” Lando mumbled, “but you’re so beautiful.” 

His gentle words left an unmissable flutter in your heart and you bit your lip as you stared right back at him. Sure, you had been privy to bountiful comments on social media or haphazard compliments in passing over the last while you had been in the media spotlight, but none that sounded as genuine as Lando’s just did. 

It was out of your mouth before you could think, “Do you mean it?”

Lando was taken back by your confirmation as if he couldn’t imagine you or anyone not knowing, “Yeah. Of course, I mean it. You’re literally the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Your Instagram does not do you enough justice because holy shit…” 

He faded out when he caught himself rambling but you just smiled in near adoration at his sweet complimenting words that went straight to your heart and the flutter that warmed deep within your body. You didn’t want to admit that a near stranger was turning you on but he was so polite and genuine and handsome and you couldn’t help it. 

“Can I kiss you, Lando?” 

His breath nearly shuttered in his chest with the suddenness of his gasp, and he stumbled out a promised, “Y-Yeah-”

On the nearly empty quiet city street, you reached your hand up to link your finger in the collar of his shirt and you pulled him even closer. Lando wasn’t a stranger to kissing but he certainly hadn’t overhyped a kiss as much as he had in his thoughts about his first kiss with you. When your lips met for a moment, you both stood perfectly still as if to savour it, as if to not cross any unspoken lines between you. You were still strangers after all. 

Lando’s fingers ghosted hesitantly over your waist as his lips locked with yours for a few long seconds and then pulled back just long enough to go in for one more together. The plushness of his sweet lips had your stomach in eager knots but you forced yourself into restraint as you broke your kiss after only a few seconds and rested your hand down against his chest, feeling his heavy heartbeat under your palm. 

“Wow….” Lando breathed out of your kiss. 

His eyes found yours under the streetlights and he licked his lips free of the taste of you left behind, lingering with the bitter reminisce of rich wine. He was thankful you were focused on his face because he no longer had your book in his hand to cover the front of his slacks that were now feeling much tighter around the crotch. It was pathetic really, how he got hard so fast and from so little, but to be fair he had been dreaming about that very moment for months. 

You took your hand from his chest with a cheeky little smile of your own and turned back to the road as your Uber approached. Driven by greed, Lando reached out and linked his pinky in yours, just to keep you close as long as he could. You glanced back at him with a small smile before getting into the Uber and he followed behind you eagerly. 

You knew to be discreet in public since your image was only growing with passing days so you had to let go of his hand when you got into the Uber, being extra cautious as the driver kept glancing in the rear view mirror at you. Lando clutched his backpack to his lap, arms wrapped around it, and his gaze focused all on you, not even bothering to be discreet about it. He was in complete awe of you but so innocent and ignorant to the tightrope walk it was to be in the public eye. To him, he could have said or done anything right there in the back of the car but you were silently praying he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. 

Lando liked to think he could read you well and your obvious tension the moment you stepped in the Uber had him on high alert. It was as if a switch had flipped in your persona and although you made sure to send him a small reassuring smile, you were clearly putting up a divider between you two. It made him nervous, treading in uncertain waters. 

It was a fifteen minute drive to your hotel, crossing over the river that ran through the city and past the bookstore that only three hours before he was lining up cluelessly for your book signing. Lando swore this was a dream and his lips tingled with desire to kiss you again, to get his hands on you properly like he had always imagined. You looked so pretty in the passing city lights and he was so fucking hard. 

When the Uber pulled up to the front of the hotel, you thanked the driver politely and you both climbed out of the backseat. You hopped up onto the curb with him and led the way towards the front doors of the Marriott guided by the red outdoor carpet. Lando felt like a true vip…even though he was embarrassingly trying to hide the obvious bulge in his slacks that he was surprised you were yet to notice. Gladly surprised, however. 

At his side when you walked through the sliding glass doors, you whispered, “Don’t make it obvious.”

Lando nearly stumbled over the front carpet in surprise, “Make what obvious?”

“That we’re anything apart from, like, business partners.” you mumbled. “Don’t do anything to give anyone ideas.”

Lando shook his head quickly, his heart racing in his chest that maybe you thought you had something to hide with him, “Of course. Of course.”

The man behind the front desk glanced up as you walked in and he greeted you both politely. You offered him a just as pleasant greeting before walking as casually as you could towards the elevator bay. Lando couldn’t hide behind his backpack and still make himself look passé and it wasn’t until you were both safely alone in the elevator that he felt like he could breathe. 

“To the outside world I have a boyfriend, y’know.” you explained, pressing the button for the sixth floor, “So bringing some random guy back to my hotel room can be seen as a little suspicious.”

“Yeah.” Lando agreed coolly as the door slid shut behind you and he looked up to the small screen that counted each floor passing by. He was desperate to figure out a way to tame his little situation before you noticed and it got embarrassing. The only bad thing about wearing dress slacks was that it made it so obvious. 

You glanced over at him, a good few inches of space lingering between you, “You okay?”

Lando met your gaze cluelessly, that haze over his face as if he were in disbelief that this was real but then looked away again, “Yeah.”

“You got quiet on me.” you pointed out. “You can dip out whenever you want…if you’re uncomfortable or just wanting to go. I won’t be upset.”

Lando looked back at you quickly, “No, I don’t want to leave at all.” 

“Okay.” you nodded gently, almost fearing that he was lying to you. 

He could see that you were overthinking his answer so he told himself to suck it up and confess his truth, “I just really want to kiss you again…and I didn’t know if I should.”

“You can.” you offered as casually as you could muster despite the heavy beating of your heart. 

You both looked at each other again, meeting gazes before dropping your eyes to each other’s lips as if out of habit. Lando didn’t need much more persuasive consent from you than that and he reached up to take your chin in his hand - like he had always dreamt of - and met you halfway for another soft kiss. You hummed gently against his lips, both of you lingering still for a moment before pulling back just quickly enough to move in for another, lips slotting together ever so slightly. His lips were pillow soft and nearly sweet, you swore, and you raised your hand up to slide over his chest and around the back of his neck. 

Lando was nearly dizzy with shock as he kissed you more, parting your lips with his own to deepen it, sharing slow open mouthed kisses that had you nearly breathing into each other’s mouths. He had spent so long imagining your lips that the real thing was nearly sending him into cardiac arrest. It was everything he wanted and more and he cradled your jaw in his hand, caressing his thumb over your cheek tenderly as you stepped a little closer to him in the elevator. 

Lando opened his eyes a little, as if having to double check that you were still really truly there with him, and he just smiled into your kiss at the sight of your pretty lashes resting on sweet cheeks. The elevator doors dinged as they slid open and you both pulled away from your kiss quickly, both grinning like fools, and you swiped the corner of your mouth with your pinky to make sure your lipstick wasn’t too smudged. Lando had a little bit of the reminisce of your re-application on his own mouth and he wiped it with the pad of his thumb just to see the warm pink colour that was smudged across his skin as if to prove his reality. 

Your hand fell into his lazily and you linked your fingers together as you pulled him out of the elevator and onto your floor. Lando traipsed behind you with a lovestick grin all over his face, rubbing his thumb over your fingers that were tucked casually around his and he felt like a million dollars just from a single thirty second kiss. 

As you fished out your room key from your purse - a task requiring two hands free - Lando greedily let his fingers trace the sinch of the blazer at your waist and down the black fabric to the slight curve of your hips. He made sure that no one else was in the hallway with you before he bravely swiped your hair over your shoulder and leaned in to kiss your neck. 

“Oh fuck.” you giggled in surprise, squirming away from him a little. 

“Sorry.” Lando hurried out, eyes wide. 

“No, it’s okay.” you assured him as you swiped your key and pushed open the hotel room door for you both, “I’m just not used to someone trying to turn me on in the middle of a hallway.”

Lando’s cheeks flushed a brilliant red at your cheeky statement and he was literally at a loss for words, his mouth opening but nothing coming out. He was turning you on? His sudden speechlessness had you laughing breathily and you linked your fingers with his once more, swinging your joined hands between you for a moment in the open doorway.

When you looked at your hands, your eyes were drawn to the bulge in the front of his slacks that was more than obvious. You bit your eager lip and looked back at his face, “Wanna come in?”

“Fuck yes.” Lando blurted out, only making you laugh again as you pulled him into the room and let the door shut behind you. 

The moment you were closed in the hotel room, you both moved in for more kisses, your hands sliding around the back of his neck and his wrapping around your waist. Once cautious and gentle, your kisses were moulding into impatient and hungry and you couldn’t help but lick your way into his mouth teasingly. Lando moaned softly into your kiss, raising a hand up to cradle your jaw again, and he gladly pushed his tongue against yours to meet you halfway. 

He didn’t feel like a stranger to you anymore - to Lando, you never felt like a stranger - and driven by the lust that grew within you, you only seemed to crave him in ways you never would have expected when you met him only three hours earlier. He physically pushed you back against the wall just inside the door and at impact you were groaning pleasantly against his lips and tongue with his body pressed to yours. You seemed to fall into some sort of rhythm together with your heads tilted ever so slightly to the left to let your lips lock between messy tongue filled kisses, bodies almost moving ever so slightly against each other in time with your lips. 

You tangled one hand in the back of his hair with ease and dropped your other to his waist to tug his body closer against yours until you could feel his erection poking against your thigh. Lando ground into you habitually, moaning into your kiss that was led equally between the two of you and his fingers pressed greedily into your hips under the material of your open blazer, his backpack still slung over his one shoulder. 

You slid your hand down his neck to his chest and pushed him back from your lips for a moment to ask breathlessly, “Just checking that you are actually over eighteen, right?”

Lando was already moving his clumsy kisses down your neck, “Almost twenty-one. On Saturday.”

“Fuck, okay,” you breathed, tilting your head back to give him room to kiss your neck and he nibbled right up under your ear, making your knees nearly go weak. You tried to play off your question despite the arousing overwhelm that was growing inside of you, “Not that you look like a teenager…I just…gotta check.”

Lando didn’t even have time to laugh at that because he was so damn focused on what was going on and he could only mumble out an “I know” before pressing his fingers to your jaw to turn your lips back to his. 

You both moaned into each other’s mouths, breathing in steady time, and you arched into him hungrily as your hand grabbed at the side of his neck. Lando’s arm snaked around your waist to hold you close just like that and his lips smacked wetly with yours, pulling more pleading moans from your throat with each tongue-led kiss. Your hips rubbed against his front slightly and his breath shuttered between kisses for a moment, fingers pressing tighter into your waist and he looked down between you to watch how close you stood together, still fully clothed. 

“You got hard so fast.” you whispered. 

Lando restrained himself from explaining that he had been growing hard from simply the sight of you since he first stepped foot in the bookstore that afternoon if not for simply looking at your pictures on Instagram over the last while. His eyes just focused on your lips, swollen from his kiss and smudged with your thin application of lipstick, and he spoke softly, “You’re just so fucking gorgeous…difficult not to get hard when you’re looking at me like that.”

He had so many smooth lines from his plentiful fantasies that involved you and of course he had to put them to the test before he got too in his head to remember any of them. That one seemed to work because you were giggling breathily and pulling him close by the side of his neck to lock your lips again. Lando swore you could take over every inch of his body and soul with ease but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than your mouth on his, kissing him like you were honestly meant to be there with your tongue working right up against his. 

It was such a rush into the hotel room that you both still had your bags slung over your shoulders and Lando slid his backpack down without taking his lips from yours, discarding it to the other side of the hallway. You followed his lead and dropped your tote bag and your purse to the tile floor too without breaking your kiss, keeping your one hand around the back of his neck to prevent his lips from leaving yours for anything longer than a second. 

Within his fit of determination, Lando guided you away from the wall and started to walk you farther into the room carefully to avoid tripping with his attention so distracted by your lips. His hands pushed your blazer from your shoulders and you gladly let him toss it across the carpeted bedroom floor before you were unbuttoning your blouse. You desperately tried to keep kissing as you undressed and Lando pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor before your blouse was joining it within seconds. 

“Holy shit.” he literally whined into your kiss as his eyes stayed open to try and get a good look at you. Shamelessly, your breasts were always a bit of a weak spot for him in most of your Instagram pictures so seeing them really, truly in front of him was unbelievable. You kept kissing him no matter how much he was trying to look at you, your hands sliding down his bare chest and to his faint abs that you gently scratched your fingers over to make him shiver. 

“You’re so sexy.” you whispered into his mouth before grabbing his waist to pull his body against yours again as your teeth nipped at his bottom lip, “Touch me.” 

Lando exhaled sharply at your order and you let his lips go so he could properly look at you, wide eyes staring down at your chest pushed up in your black bra. His hands glided up the curve of your waist, over your warm soft skin, and his fingertips ghosted over the lace of your bra as if afraid to touch. It pushed your breasts up so addictingly full and he literally licked his lips as he stared at you and cupped his hands over your chest. His wide eyed wonder had your gaze lingering on him for a moment, trying to read his expression as more than the male desire to look at breasts and instead thinking if maybe this was the first time he had seen any. 

“Sit down.” you instructed gently, taking hold of his wrists to steer him against the side of the neatly made king size bed. 

He sat. His eyes stayed on your chest and his hands reached for you once more. 

You let him touch and squeeze your breasts in your bra as much as he pleased because you were taking to his belt right after. Lando’s quick gasp was obvious and you looked him right in the eyes as you unpinned the buckle and then popped the button on his slacks. 

“You tell me to stop at any point if you want.” you whispered. 

Lando nodded and leaned in to kiss your lips again, playing his inexperience off with a casual, “You too.”

You just giggled softly and unzipped his slacks and tugged open the front before kneeling on either side of his lap. As your kiss broke, Lando’s hands slid around your waist to your back and his wide eyed stare locked on your chest that was nearly in his face. When you lowered down onto his lap, he bit down on his bottom lip in anticipation and when you started grinding on him a little, his hands gripped tighter to your waist. 

“Holy…” he groaned out softly, gaze unwavering from your breasts in his face. 

You moaned softly at the feeling of his clothed erection pressing up against your dress pants, right over your clit, and the friction was unbearably addicting. Greedy slow rocks of your hips back and forth had Lando trying to restrain himself from smothering his face in your chest, his eyes wide with lust. He couldn’t tell which one to look at, licking his lips, and his large hands followed the motions of your hips lazily. 

“Do whatever you want to me.” you whispered to him. “You can touch my tits if you want.” 

Lando’s big hazel eyes blinked up at you like a sweet little puppy and his teeth sunk down into his bottom lip as his mouth formed an eager smile, his hands sliding down the back of your pants to grab your ass with your given permission. 

“That’s it.” you breathed, still grinding down on his lap.

He pulled you into your motions harder and he groaned softly as he leaned in towards your chest. Tongue first, he licked testingly between your breasts and with your soft exhale, he tried again over one of them before sucking gently on your skin as he moved back. You raised your hand up behind you and unclipped your bra and Lando’s breath nearly froze in his chest as the lace fabric fell away to expose you to his eager eyes. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” he breathed, taking his hands from your ass to grab your chest. 

“You like my tits?” you asked sweetly. 

“Yeah.” Lando groaned, squishing them together before leaning in and nuzzled his face between them. He absolutely showered you in kisses as you laughed lightly at his eagerness and ran your hand through the back of his hair, still grinding down on his lap slowly, watching as he licked and kissed and suckled at your skin. But when he finally wrapped his lips around one of your nipples and sucked on it roughly, you audibly withered, your head falling back for a moment at the sensation. 

Lando’s eyes raised to yours as his teeth tugged at your nipple teasingly and you met his gaze again, “Does it feel good when I do that?”

“Mhm.” 

“Yeah?” he moved back in to suck on the other one, mimicking his same actions and pulling back with a little bite. “You have such pretty tits.”

You giggled lightly, “Thank you.”

Lando dropped his hands back down to your bum as you kept grinding on him back and forth, and he kissed wetly at your breasts a bit more before peering down between your bodies. You both still had your pants on although his were unzipped and resting open tauntingly and he moaned softly as he bit his bottom lip, watching you rub yourself down on his aching boner with almost four layers between you. 

“Mm, that feels so good.” he whispered. “Can I take my pants off?”

You nodded him on and leaned up on your knees to give him room to shuffle his slacks down his legs and he kicked them across the floor. It was only then that he noticed the full length framed mirror on the wall across from him over your shoulder and he mouthed ‘oh my God’ to himself as he watched you drop back down onto his lap. His hands gripped your ass and pulled you into your motions stronger and with your arms wrapped around his shoulders you dipped down to kiss his lips. You shared pleasant moans, tongues welcome into each other’s mouths as the sloppy sound of your kisses filled the hotel room with your heavy breaths. 

“Fuck, baby.” Lando groaned out of your kiss as his head tilted back for a moment to breathe. 

You kissed down his neck and his thumbs bravely tucked themselves in the back of your dress pants and started to pull them down over your ass. 

“Can I leave hickies?” you asked against his ear. 

“Fuck, yes.” Lando answered easily, honestly excited for you to leave your mark on him. 

You licked over a spot on the side of his neck and tangled your finger in the back of his hair to pull his head to the opposite side to give yourself more room. Lando just watched through the mirror over your shoulder as his hands rested on the curve of your bare ass, greedy eyes exposed to the burgundy lace of your panties that was as rich red as the wine you shared with dinner. His nose scrunched up at your first gentle suction and you tugged at his skin a little more and he withered slightly, hands gripping your flesh a bit tighter. 

“Ohh, my God.” he groaned. 

You pulled back from his neck with a soft slurp of spit and left one last lick over the forming bruise before blowing a gentle puff of air across it just to make him shiver. You both shared almost eager little grins as you moved back in to kiss him and when your lips locked, Lando couldn’t help himself but wind his hand back and slap it back down against your ass. The small yelp you let out had him rubbing his hand over the spot soothingly but you just whispered a ‘harder’ into his mouth instead. 

“You’re so fucking dirty.” Lando mumbled, staring you right in the eyes as he spanked you harder. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I love it.” Lando bit back his grin. 

He went to lean in to kiss you again but you slid off his lap and shuffled off your pants all the way before sinking to your knees between his legs. Lando’s eyes only widened more and you kept his gaze as you placed a careful hand over the front of his black briefs, only giving him the smallest pressure against his aching hard cock hidden underneath. 

“This okay?” you asked. 

“Mhm.” he nodded, resting his hands on the bed behind him to watch your hand rub slowly over the tent in his underwear. His eyebrows were furrowed in disbelieving concentration as if trying to sear into his memory the sight of you touching him just like that, his hips rising slightly from the bed to nudge up into your touch habitually. 

Your fingers ghosted across the taut fabric of his underwear up to the top of the bulge formed underneath and then you wrapped gentle fingers around it. Lando’s mouth fell open silently, still staring down at you as you rubbed him over his briefs with a secure grip around the girth of his clothed cock. 

“You’re so hard.” you whispered up to him, leaning in to press a careful kiss over the black fabric, “You feel big.” 

“You can take it out.” Lando offered, trying to play it cool while on the inside his heart was nearly racing out of his chest. 

“Yeah?” you bit your lip up at him, stringing him along a little longer, “And then what? Want me to put it in my mouth?”

“Fuck.” Lando choked out, “Yes.” 

His obvious eagerness had you smiling and you slid your warm palms up his stomach and leaned in to press slow open mouthed kisses down his abs and right to the fabric of his underwear, pausing to lick teasingly at the little line of hair that disappeared into the waistband. He shuttered under your touch and you just bit back your own excited grin as you slowly started to pull his underwear down. It rested around his thighs for a moment as you let yourself take in the sight of him, how his dick stood tall in front of your face, angled up so perfectly it nearly made you moan out loud. 

Lando was slowly shying under your silent stare and he reached a hand out to cover himself but before he could you were dropping out your tongue and licking at the tip. 

“O-Oh my God.” Lando choked out, his thighs flinching slightly. 

“You have a gorgeous dick.” you whispered up at him, wrapping your hand around the base greedily to hold him still as you dragged your tongue right up the underside. 

Lando was almost scared to touch you as if it would somehow make you stop and his right hand was held clumsily in mid air as his gaping mouth stared down at you in his lap. Your eyes met his as your lips wrapped around the head of his cock and you sucked on it lazily, gently, teasing him a little more. When you pulled back again, you let a string of spit dribble from your lips and down the shaft of his dick to meet your hand as you started stroking it slowly. 

“Oh my fucking God.” Lando breathed shakily. 

Your hand was so much better than his own, so soft and gentle, simply yours, and he stared at your motions as if in complete disbelief. You gave him slow twisting strokes up and back down, letting your eyes take up every inch of him as you licked your lips at the sheer size of him.

“You’re huge.” you complimented as you dragged his underwear down his legs completely and he helped to kick them off his ankles and across the floor. 

Lando never really thought to compare himself to others so he never really knew where he stood but honestly you could have been completely lying to him and he would have believed you. Your voice was a drug to him. Your touch was addicting. Your mouth was even better. 

The moment you took him in your mouth, Lando was whimpering shakily and his hand that was once hovering in mid air raked through his hair to grab a tight fistful to restrain himself. You kept yourself slow, pushing down on him carefully and easing back up with a snug hollow of your cheeks that was gentle for him. He had tried to play it cool but his obvious inexperience was oozing out of him and you saw that well. You didn’t want to call him out and embarrass him so you just took it slowly and made sure he was comfortable. 

With a soft moan, you kept your mouth and hand working together and Lando audibly withered as if his eyes were physically going to roll back in his head. 

“Is this a dream?” he whispered, mostly to himself. 

You giggled as you pulled back from his cock, letting your hand take up the motions that your mouth once was, “Not a dream, baby.”

Lando swore there was no better sight than you between his legs and he hesitantly slid his hand through your hair as if to make sure you were really there. You smiled up at him and then lowered down again, keeping your hand stroking his dick as you sucked gently on his balls one at a time. 

“Oh my God.” Lando gasped out. “Shit.” 

“Feel good?” you asked after licking back up the underside of his dick. 

“Yes.” 

You smeared the tip of his cock over your pursed lips, bubbling out a bit more spit to slick him up some more and then you pressed your tongue right under the head just to see how his nose scrunched up in pleasure. He whimpered so prettily and you nearly grinned as you fed his dick back into your mouth, shaking your head to get him to hit the back of your throat. When you gagged, Lando’s hand gripped tighter at your hair and his head fell back with a lingering groan, only breathing harder in steady time with you as you started bobbing your head again. 

As his moans got louder, you moved slower before finally pulling back from his lap with a deep inhale, leaving him sighing shakily. 

“Why’d you stop?” Lando asked quietly. 

“Because I don’t want you to cum yet.” you answered easily and reached up to grab him by the back of his neck and pull his lips to yours. 

He moaned into your kiss as his tongue fought against yours with fierce desire and both of his hands cradled your cheeks to hold you close. Without breaking your kiss, you stood up between his legs while still stroking him off lazily and he shuffled back farther onto the bed to let you join him. You placed yourself on his outstretched thighs, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his hands pulled you closer by your ass until his cock was pressed up right against your clothed clit. 

Lando’s hands groped your ass strongly and he moaned hungrily into your mouth as if chasing your breath for more. He was desperate for your touch and to feel every inch of you but the gentleman in him just had to speak up before his inexperienced brain could really process his offer. 

“Want me to eat you out?” 

The offer nearly started himself as much as it took you by surprise, his instant regret pouring through his veins at the sudden remembrance that he would have no clue what the hell to do down there on you. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself and prove to you that he was a measly virgin. He had no clue you suspected it. 

“That’s okay.” you brushed it off coolly between passionate kisses. 

“Mm,” Lando kept pushing no matter how much he was fearing a ‘yes’, protesting weakly into your mouth, “but you went down on me…”

“So what?” you mumbled, grinding up against his cock. 

“Mph-” Lando groaned, voice strained, “it’s gotta be fair-” 

“Who says this isn’t fair?” you tangled your fingers in the back of his hair to gently tug his head back so he was looking up at you. 

Lando only whimpered, “Me.”

You dipped in closer to bite at his bottom lip once, twice, and then gave it a little tug on the third time, making his breath shutter in his chest when you pulled back. His wide eyes were focused in on yours, swollen lips parted sweetly in awe, and when you slid your hand around to his throat, his eyelashes fluttered with a shaky inhale. 

You spoke to him lowly, voice dripping in lust, and Lando could have came right then and there as you told him seriously, “I just want you to fuck me already.” 

“Oh my God.” Lando withered, sliding his hands up your waist to roll your both over gently. 

Still laying perpendicular to the pillows, his lips magnetized to yours almost right away. He situated himself between your legs that you wrapped around his waist and as his dick rutted up against your panties, he could nearly feel how wet you were, soaking through the fabric. You shared impatient moans into each other’s mouths, hung up on each other’s lips, and your fingers tangled in the back of his hair. 

“Do you have a condom in your bag?” you breathed into his mouth, words muffled slightly by his lips. 

Lando leaned back from your kiss just enough for your noses to brush, “No. Do you not have any?” 

“Wasn’t really planning on taking a stranger from my signing back to my hotel.” you chuckled. 

Lando could have nearly cried with frustration as he sat back from you, resting on his knees between your spread legs. You leaned up on your elbows against the neatly made sheets and you could have smiled at his adorable pout that he was trying so hard to suppress as his hands ghosted down your torso and over your thighs. 

“Lando,” you giggled, brushing your foot over his waist to bring his attention back to your face, “Do you wanna fuck me raw?”

His eyes could not have opened wider in shock, “What?”

“If you wanna. I can just stop to grab a Plan B tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Lando questioned. Was it concerning that he didn't even fear an accidental pregnancy? To be fair, he had been dreaming about knocking you up for months so the risk was more to his desires than he’d have liked to admit. 

You bit your lip and nodded, “If you’re comfortable.” 

He couldn’t nod faster if he tried. 

“Okay,” you smiled sweetly and held out one hand towards him, “C’mere then.” 

Lando leaned back over you, holding himself up on the bed beside you as his other hand cradled your face to keep your lips on his for more lingering kisses. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, moaning softly into his mouth as they moulded together like perfection. 

“Fuck, I’m so wet.” you whimpered into his mouth, chasing his mouth for one more sloppy kiss as he tried to pull away, “Mm, I want you so bad.” 

Lando stared down at you as he sat back on his knees again and let his hands travel down your body, over your breasts and hips and to the thin lace of your rich red panties. You draped your arms over your head and rose your legs towards your chest for a moment so he could easily pull your underwear off you and then let them fall to the ground, leaving you both completely naked. In the quiet of the hotel room, Lando nudged your thighs open again and got his first real look at the part of you that he swore he was only going to see in his dreams. 

You were glistening wet and Lando stared in wonder at the effect he had on you. Only egging him on more, you dropped a hand down and spread your lips open with two slender fingers so he could see all of you before gliding your fingers between them to smear around your sticky arousal that nearly dripped from your pussy. 

“Holy…fuck.” Lando licked his lips and then took a deep breath. “You are a fucking dream.”

“All reality.” you assured him with a giggle.

He rubbed his hands over your thighs for a moment, contemplating his next move, and you let him take his time. With a soft call of your name and a hum of acknowledgement from you, Lando had one request, “Can you call me ‘sir’?”

You were surprised by the slightly kinky suggestion, something you hadn’t even thought about at all, “You want me to call you ‘sir’?”

“You don’t have to.” Lando assured you quickly, his cheeks flushing pink.

“No…that’s…really fucking hot.” you admitted with a smile.

Lando’s lips perked up at the corners, “Yeah?”

You nodded with a sultry, “Yes, sir.” 

“Ohh fuck.” Lando chuckled through a low groan and he leaned back down over you to kiss you again. 

You moaned contentedly against his lips, swallowing up his tongue against yours, and then let him go with a smile when he sat back again between your spread legs. He shuffled closer to your body and you pulled your legs back a bit more to give him room, watching carefully as he let a thick string of spit fall from his lips onto his dick and he rubbed it in with his hand. 

“How much dirty talk do you want?” you asked softly. 

Lando answered with ease, “Write me a novel worth.” 

“Oh my God.” you giggled, draping yourself back down against the sheets, “I can do that.” 

Lando nudged the tip of his dick against your dripping pussy and the simple action made both of you gasp lightly. He was honestly a little nervous to get inside you, fearing that he’d cum within seconds and truth embarrass himself, so he teased you a little more by dragging his dick between your legs. 

“Shit,” you sighed out, eyes focused on his face as he watched the head of his cock glide between your wet folds, soaking himself in your arousal, “I just need you to fuck me with your big dick.” 

Lando nearly shuttered at your words and his eyes rose to meet your face. 

You reached down your body and gently stroked the head of his dick with your fingertips, tracing the smooth shape and stroking it right at his most sensitive spots. His hips naturally pushed into your touch and he groaned tightly. 

“Yeah, you’ve got such a pretty cock…gonna fucking ruin me with it. Just want it buried in my tight little wet pussy, sir.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lando groaned softly, keeping a tight fist around the shaft of his dick as you nearly petted the swollen pink tip so tenderly. 

“Do you want that, sir?” you asked him sweetly, staring right up at his face as you wrapped your hand around his and brushed the tip of his dick strongly between your folds, “You wanna fuck me into my bed? Watch me take every inch of you?”

“Oh my- yeah-” he stumbled out. Lando could hardly think of words, all his smooth one-liners completely disappeared from his mind as he watched you rub his dick between your legs. You felt so warm and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

“How do you want to fuck me?” you asked softly. 

Lando swallowed thickly, “This is…fine. This is good.” 

“Okay.” you giggled. You took your hand back from over his to spread yourself open for him, urging him in with no words spoken. 

Lando shuffled forward on his knees again and held a cautious hand down against your stomach as he angled his dick between your legs and started to push inside you. You reached down to help guide him a little, making sure he got the right angle with the gentle re-direction of your fingers.

“Yeah, right there.” you breathed shakily, “Keep going.” 

The moment the head of his cock slipped snugly into your pussy, you both gasped softly at the feeling and Lando moved both his hands to grab your spread thighs as he watched himself ease deeper into you ever so slowly. You felt like heaven and Lando had to blink a few times to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming, far too good to be true. It was a feeling his hand could never recreate and he wondered how the hell he could go back to using his imagination after this, after being blessed with how tight and warm you were squeezing around him. 

“Oh my God, you’re so big.” you moaned quietly as you shifted onto your forearms behind you again to give yourself a better angle to watch behind a bitten lip as he slid in farther. 

Lando couldn’t even form words as he bottomed out and his hips pressed snugly against yours, his cock buried as deep as it could inside you. He was scared to move, worried that the moment he started to fuck you that he’d cum in seconds. 

You reached up a hand to wrap around the back of his neck and he raised his eyes to yours as you asked him softly, “You okay?”

“Mhm.” he nodded and leaned in to kiss you. 

His slight movement had his hips nudging against yours and your muscles fluttered around him at the shift and you both moaned into your messy kiss. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Lando rushed out in one hurried breath as he pulled back from your kiss and slowly rolled his hips into yours. 

“Slow.” you whispered, sliding your hands around the back of his neck. “Nice and slow.”

Lando’s eyes locked on yours as he eased deep into you again, resting his hands flat on either side of your head, and your mouths fell open together at the feeling. 

“That’s it.” you breathed. 

Lando moaned tightly into his next achingly slow thrust, slipping inside you so easily. You took his face in your hands and pulled him down for more kisses, sharing soft breaths and moans between you for a moment. 

“Can I ride you?” you asked against his lips. 

Part of him was sort of relieved to have you offer to start for him and he pushed a final kiss to your lips before pulling out of you again. You shifted him over onto his back, moving around so he was resting back against the down filled pillows and you tossed a leg over his lap. Lando’s wide eyes soaked you up eagerly and his hands found your hips to pull you closer before he was taking hold of his dick and helped you to angle it right again. 

It was a bit easier to slide into you now that he had already been fully inside you once and you sank right down until your ass met his thighs. His little grunt as you bottomed out had you smiling down at him and he just grinned right back, a dopey little pleasured grin, and his large hands slid up your waist to grab at your breasts. You rose back up just a bit and then lowered back down on him, starting slowly to start him off. 

“Fuck.” Lando squeaked out, eyes focused down his body to watch how you took him all every time you dropped down. He was just getting slicked up in your liquids to the point that every time you took him inside you, it made the filthiest wettest sound that made his mouth drop open. 

“Can I go faster, sir?” you asked breathily. 

“Uh huh.” he nodded. 

He wanted to take you over so badly but his mind was absolutely racing and he could hardly figure out how to form words. You bounced on his lap a little faster but still pretty slowly, grounding yourself with your hands on his chest as the bliss washed over you easily. 

“Mm, fuck, you feel so good inside me.” you moaned. 

Lando couldn’t help but naturally stumble out, “Good girl.” 

You blushed pink at his deep voice praising you so honestly and you squared your shoulders again and held his hands over your chest as you swirled your hips in impactful circles, “You think I’m a good girl, sir?”

The lust that raced through Lando’s veins had him staring up at you with so much he wanted to say and your taunting dirty talk only pulled it from where he had kept it suppressed with his initial shock of pleasure. He groped your breasts stronger and nearly pulled you into your motions by them, “Yeah, you’re a good girl, baby.” 

His protective walls were falling away as he fell into comfort and you bit back your smile down at him as you moved back into bounces, “God, I love riding you. You look so fucking good.” 

Lando audibly groaned, pulling his hands from your chest to grab your hips again and tried to slow you down desperately. But you fell to your knees on either side of his body and tossed your hair over one shoulder to lean down and kiss him, bouncing your hips back on him as you did so. 

“Mm, fuck.” Lando muffled into your mouth, desperately trying to keep kissing you back but it was growing increasingly difficult. He spanked you once before grabbing your ass and tried to buck up into you with a whine. 

You had only been on top of him for not even a minute and he was already about to burst. He was embarrassingly close and if he didn’t stop you and the way you were riding him he was going to cum embarrassingly fast. 

“Stop, baby, st-stop.” he stumbled out, trying not to show how strained his voice was.

You did, stalling your motions as you pulled back from his lips to look at him, “You okay?”

Lando played it off coolly, “Yeah. Just wanna…”

You let him lead you off of him and he got up to take his spot behind you, naturally urging you onto hands and knees. His direction had you biting back a grin and you looked at him over your shoulder as you spread your legs a little wider and he brushed his dick between your folds again. 

“Put it in.” you whispered. 

Lando took a deep silent breath that he held in his chest as he pushed back inside your sinfully tight body. He groaned lowly and grabbed your waist tightly as he couldn’t help but start to thrust into you slowly as if driven by some sort of natural instinct. 

“Oh fuck-” you gasped, hands instinctively gripping the sheets beneath you. “Yes.”

He slapped a hand down across your ass and you giggled blissfully into the pillows as you slouched down to arch your back for him. Taking it from the back, he could hit so deep that his balls smacked against your clit every time he thrusted into you and the slick sound of wet skin filled the hotel room. 

“Oh my God.” Lando groaned through his teeth. “Good girl…take it.” 

“Fuck, sir.” you moaned pleasantly, unable to hide the honest smile from your face. “Don’t stop.”

Lando’s head literally fell back and he mouthed an “oh my God” to the ceiling as if literally speaking to heaven - it nearly felt like he was in heaven in that moment. You…were heaven to him. His hands gripped tighter onto your waist and he pulled you into his every thrust as he tried to hold himself back. He wanted to cum so badly but it was still so soon and he was trying everything in his power to not think too hard about how good you felt and how pretty you sounded. 

“Fuck me faster.” you whimpered, glancing back at him over your shoulder. 

Lando physically clenched his jaw and forced himself faster, shoving into you messily just to make you moan louder into your arm. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” 

“Feel good, baby?” he asked, unsure of his own capabilities.

“So good!” you cried softly, “Don’t stop!” 

Lando could feel himself growing close again and the filthy wet and warm squelch of your pussy taking him all certainly wasn’t helping him last any longer. He honestly tried to think of his exam he had taken earlier that day, his failing GPA, his current assignments, desperate for any thought that would keep him from finishing too quickly. But you were louder than his thoughts and your jagged fucked out moans and whimpers and chants of “yes” were making it increasingly difficult to hold back. 

So he pulled out again. 

“Ohhh.” you whined in protest. 

Lando tried to steady his breathing, his cock aching with need to cum, and he took his time nudging you onto your back and pulled your right leg over your left so your hips were rotated ninety degrees and left your pussy on perfect display for him. It only took a few seconds to get you situated but by then the knot inside him was diminishing and only leaving behind that unfulfilled throbbing. 

“Okay, okay, okay, okay-” Lando breathed, spanking your ass once more before he was grabbing it in his tight grip and then sliding his dick back inside you strongly. “That’s it.”

“Holy shit, you’re so big!” you cried. 

Lando just started fucking you again, holding you down by waist and chest and your head tossed back against the pillows with a loud cry of pleasure. He couldn’t get enough of you, the feeling he had never been blessed with before, and he stared down at you behind a bitten lip and stormy determined eyes that had your mouth dropping open. 

“Oh my fucking God, yes!” you shrieked, tossing a hand up behind you to grab onto the headboard. “Right there!”

Lando had a one handed vice like grip on your breast but the sting of his grip didn’t phase you as you were too hung up on the way he fucked you. His strokes weren’t completely graceful and were certainly infused with an unmissable desperation but they felt so good regardless and the angle he had you at had him hitting your g-spot straight on. Whether he knew that or not was beyond you but he literally had you going quiet as only the sharpest little gasps were fucked from your throat. 

“F-Fuck-“ Lando whimpered, staring right into your eyes. 

The expression you held was driving him crazy, nothing but euphoria spread all over your face with your mouth fallen open and eyes nearly rolling back in your head thanks to him and him alone. You reached one hand down to grab his thigh, fingers pressing into his flesh as if to pull him closer, deeper, to urge him to give you more. He shifted to grab your ass and waist with both hands, biting hard on his bottom lip as he stared down at how you took him all so deep inside you, drenching him each time he pulled back out just to shove back in, dizzy on the wet squish of your body. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, sir-” you rushed out, fingernails digging into the back of his thigh from where you held him and your other arm was draped above your head and gripping onto the pillow beneath you, your moans only growing louder and more desperate, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop!” 

As your pussy started to grip down around him, Lando physically stopped in surprise, his hips stuttering, and he pulled right out of you again with a startled gasp. Your disappointed groan had his wide eyes raising back to your face again. 

“Wanna cum for you.” you whined, reaching down to rub pleadingly at your sensitive pussy, “Please let me cum on your cock.” 

Lando couldn’t say no to that. He shoved your legs apart again to get you flat on your back once more and you grinned sweetly up at him as he proudly angled his dick between your legs and dragged it through your pooling wetness and pressed it against your gaping hole, already fucked out by him. He eased it inside you slowly, so slowly so he could watch how your body stretched around him and took him all, how each inch made your breath shutter in your chest. 

He knew he really wasn’t going to last long anymore - he had already done literally all he could to hold himself back - and he leaned right over you with his forearms pressed to the pillows on either side of your head as he filled you completely once more. You leaned up to kiss him, lips smacking wetly and sloppily with your passion and heat, and when he rolled his hips into yours, you broke your kiss with a lingering moan. 

Lando stared at your face right in front of him as you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders and neck and he pushed into you slowly again. Your sweet moans were nothing less than beautiful to him and he thrusted into you a bit stronger to have you making more of those pretty sounds. 

“Please,” you whimpered, cut off by his lips finding yours again as he thrusted into you a little faster. You squeaked against his kiss and smacked your hand down against his shoulder blades in surprise at his change, nails sinking into his skin. 

“This okay?” Lando asked softly, his breath falling against your cheek. 

“Uh huh! Gimme more.” you nodded. 

Lando couldn’t get enough of your filthy words so he egged you on - testing the waters - with a little, “Beg.” 

“Fuck me harder!” you pleaded, “I wanna cum all over your huge cock. Want you to make me cum, sir. Want you to make me scream, sir.” 

“Oh fuck.” Lando groaned quietly, slumping down on top of you a little more as he let his hips take their natural desperation out on you, pounding into you faster. 

“Shit!” you gasped sharply, head tossing back against the pillows, “Yes! Keep going!” 

“Good girl.” Lando breathed, so quiet as if he were nervous to say it out loud but you still heard and it still made your stomach twist. 

Your ankles linked behind his back to keep him as close as possible and you welcomed his lips back on yours to share a few more sloppy kisses and hungry moans before he was pulling back to breathe again. Lando had to tuck his face into your neck because looking at you felt like far too much to handle as he stayed nice and deep and fucked you quicker. 

“Yes.” you squeaked out, digging your nails into his back. “Yes, yes, yes-” 

Lando moaned shakily against your skin, already feeling himself needing to cum again. He desperately thought of his exam again, trying to think about anything to make it last just even a little bit longer. He was getting so close so fast and as you did the same, the squeeze of your muscles only drew him dangerously closer to finishing. 

The sound of his panted, strained breaths against your ear was invigorating and the tight reverberations of his soft groans had you biting his neck to keep yourself composed, to keep from getting too loud between the thin hotel walls. But you still moaned for him, pleading sweet little moans that he felt in every inch of his body and his balls fucking ached to cum after so much edging. It nearly brought tears to his eyes. 

You could tell he was close as he shuffled closer to you on his knees and his thrusts were turning sloppy and his groans were turning into strained little whimpers, his cock pulsing strongly deep inside of you. Just to help it along, you dropped a hand down between your snug bodies to rub at your clit, already so sensitive that the slightest touch had you shuttering with overwhelm. The way it made your pussy clench up had Lando gasping and you held him by the back of his neck to keep his cheek pressed to yours. 

“Do you want to cum inside me?” you asked softly, voice dripping like honey. 

He nodded quickly. 

“Yeah? Good because I want it. I want you to cum so fucking deep inside me, sir. Please, gimme it.” 

Your voice was strained as you were getting yourself close too by the extra help of your hand and Lando’s fists were tightening on the pillows on either side of your head as he fucked you right down into the bedsheets. Your words certainly weren’t helping him hold himself back but thankfully he didn’t have to hold it much longer because in seconds he was privy to the perfection that was your orgasm. 

He could hardly get a good look at your face with how close your heads were but he got the best of it; how your nose scrunched up and head fell back and how you sobbed out his name to the ceiling with a trail of the sweetest moans and whimpers he had heard all night. But the best part was how it felt, how fucking tight you got around him, because the moment your orgasm washed over you, the vice like grip of your muscles sent him to his own rapid conclusion. 

Lando literally tensed so hard he trembled, eyes scrunched closed as he grunted out a whimpery, “Y-Yes…yes- f-fuck-” 

He held onto you so tightly that he couldn’t get any deeper inside you if he tried and he savoured the feeling of coming in something that wasn’t his hand. It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that it was you. 

Your heels pressed into his ass to grind his hips against yours to make sure he let it all out, your shared breathy moans lingering in the warm air of the hotel room. Lando bucked into you a few more times and you kissed at his neck as he came down from his most incredible orgasm to date. His hands loosened on the pillows and he leaned back just enough to look at your face properly. 

His cheeks were dusted pink and he was blinking away the pleasurable tears that had brimmed in his eyes, parted lips staring down at you in near awe. You brushed your hand through his messy hair and you both leaned in for a quick kiss or two before you were guiding him back by his biceps as he sat back on his knees between your spread legs. 

Lando’s chest nearly hurt with how fast his heart was beating and he pulled out of you slowly, watching the trickle of cum that dripped out in his wake. He licked his lips and raised his eyes up to yours as if asking for permission to touch you as he reached his hand out and smeared his fingers through it greedily. 

“That’s so fucking hot.” he breathed. 

“Feels so good too.” you giggled. 

Lando shifted out from between your legs and fell onto the bed at your side, both of you resting back against the pillows and staring at the ceiling as your breathing steadied. You grabbed his wrist of the hand that had just been in the mess you made and you pulled it up to your mouth to suck off his fingers. Lando exhaled shakily as he watched you lick him clean - nearly deepthroating his fingers as you did so - and then you shoved his hand away with a little blissful laugh and a lick of your lips to linger on the taste of him. 

In the silence that fell for the initial moment after everything, Lando started to wonder if he should be saying something…bringing you something…thanking you? He felt like a fool, not knowing what he was supposed to be doing and he turned his head to look at you again, speaking your name into the warm air between you. 

“Lando.” you replied right back with a little smile, lolling your head to the side to look right back at him. 

“I have to tell you something.” he whispered. 

You shifted your body onto your side to give him your full attention, face falling into slight concern, “What is it?”

He bit at his lip nervously before confessing to you, “I’m a virgin…I was a virgin...”

Your lips pricked up into a tiny smile at the corners and you stroked your thumb across his cheek, “Yeah, sweetheart, I could kinda tell when you kept having to stop to keep from cumming too fast.”

Lando’s cheeks went red, “Oh.” 

“Was that okay though? You didn’t mind losing it to me? I should have asked but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Lando propped himself up on his side too with a quick shake of his head, “Absolutely. I wanted nothing more than to lose it to you, honestly. It was like a fucking dream.” 

You shared light laughter and he leaned in - hesitating for a split second - and kissed your lips. You raised your hand up to the side of his neck to keep him there a moment longer, smiling into his mouth as your breathlessly moulded into messy little kisses. 

“Was it okay for you?” Lando pulled back to ask, “I wasn’t…too clueless, right?”

You bit back your smile at his courtesy and shook your head, “No, you were amazing. Pleasantly surprised you could actually make me cum.”

He let out a little sigh of relief and you both leaned in for a few more quick kisses between light blissful giggles. Lando felt a surge of pride for himself, like he was unbeatable, and when you pushed him back by his chest, he flopped back onto the sheets with a smiling sigh. 

“I’m gonna go clean up.” you said, scratching your fingers gently over his abs, “You’ll be here when I come out?”

Lando nodded, sharing in your smiles, and he watched you climb off the bed and retrieve a clean pair of underwear and a t-shirt from your suitcase by the wall before disappearing around the corner into the bathroom. When he heard the door close behind you, Lando permitted himself a deep exhale, raking his fingers through his hair as he stared up at the ceiling with shocked disbelief all over his face. He had been playing it cool for hours and suddenly, with the wash of reality overcoming him, he was stunned to silence by what just happened. 

He mouthed a “what the fuck” to the ceiling and then sat up on the king size bed to locate his underwear from where they had been earlier tossed across the floor. He got up and tugged them on before tiptoeing past the bathroom door to where his backpack was left in your rush of entry. With his phone in hand, Lando returned to the side of the bed and sat down as he unlocked his phone with your birthdate as his passcode and swiped across his home screen that was wallpapered with a picture of you, and opened Instagram. 

His two best friends were chatting to pass the time in the groupchat,

georgerussell63: It’s literally 11:00 right now and I’m going to be so tired for my exam tomorrow but I can’t go to sleep until we know wtf is going on alex_albon: I know alex_albon: I’m so wide awake alex_albon: I can’t even lock my phone I’m scared we’ll miss something georgerussell63: Do you think anything happened? alex_albon: Ahh idk- georgerussell63: Omg wait Lando just opened the messages georgerussell63: Hello?? alex_albon: Lan?? You alive?? georgerussell63: Mate don’t just leave us on SEEN  alex_albon: What happened? We are dying here! landonorris: Guys landonorris: Oh my God georgerussell63: LANDO alex_albon: WHAT HAPPENED landonorris: I fucked her alex_albon: WAIT WHAT georgerussell63: WHAT THE FUCK?? georgerussell63: REALLY? landonorris: Ahherghbj omfg yes really alex_albon: Proof plz omg we need proof georgerussell63: Wtf kind of proof Alex? The used condom? Nasty landonorris: Yeah that’d be difficult since we didn’t use a condom- alex_albon: LANDO NORRIS georgerussell63: WTF georgerussell63: WHY NOT alex_albon: BECAUSE WE WANT THOSE BABIES LES GOO landonorris: HAHA landonorris: Idk she just said she’d take plan b tomorrow and idc pffhf landonorris: I’m fucking buzzing holy shit georgerussell63: Where are you rn?? alex_albon: Give us all the details mate landonorris: In her hotel room landonorris: She’s just in the bathroom so I probably can’t chat for long but landonorris: Yeah I had to tell you guys right awayyy georgerussell63: Hear that Albono? georgerussell63: Our boy isnt a virgin anymore 🥲 alex_albon: I’m literally speechless omg alex_albon: Did you get her follow yet?? georgerussell63: ALEX georgerussell63: Mate georgerussell63: Who cares about a follow right now georgerussell63: The boy just shagged the girl of his dreams 🥵 alex_albon: I'm just ASKING if its a one time thing or what landonorris: Idk it literally just happened so we haven’t even really talked landonorris: I still can’t believe it really georgerussell63: Was she good? 👀 alex_albon: 👀👀👀 landonorris: YES landonorris: She was so fucking loud too landonorris: And her dirty talkkkkk holy shittttttt georgerussell63: YEEESH alex_albon: Oh my GODD

Grinning from ear to ear at how boastful he felt, Lando glanced at the bathroom door to make sure it was still closed before he went over to the full length mirror and opened his camera. He tilted his head back a little to show off the bruising hickey on his neck and the faint reminisce of teeth marks just below it and he snapped a picture for his friends.

landonorris: *sent an image* georgerussell63: Ohhhh you got BRANDED alex_albon: LANDO alex_albon: Fucking get it mate omfg

Lando took a second to look at himself in the mirror as if he were a whole new person. He felt new…improved…absolutely buzzing. He turned around in the reflection just to see the pretty red scratches down his back and across his shoulder blades. With a disbelieving giggle to himself, Lando raised his phone up over his shoulder and took a picture through the mirror.

landonorris: *sent an image* alex_albon: LANDO georgerussell63: SHIT alex_albon: You must have had serious game to be scratched up like that holy shit georgerussell63: You really did it omg landonorris: YEAH I REALLY DID IT landonorris: Four positions landonorris: Not including her getting on her knees first landonorris: The whole time she was basically screaming for it landonorris: Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking done landonorris: She was so fucking incredible  landonorris: Even better than I could ever imagine  landonorris: It felt so good I’ve never come so fucking hard before lol georgerussell63: Geeeeez it’s getting hot in here alex_albon: I’m dying to know what this means for you two alex_albon: If she liked it that much this better not be a one time thing alex_albon: She better have fallen in love with you rn georgerussell63: Our boy’s got such good stroke game he wins girls hearts alex_albon: Hell yeah landonorris: Seriously guys it was unreal georgerussell63: I’m so obsessively happy for you rn it’s probably unhealthy 

Right then, the bathroom door opened and you stepped out, only giving Lando a few seconds to say goodbye to his friends. 

landonorris: gtg talk tomorrow

“You okay?” you asked cautiously.

Dressed in only a t-shirt and panties, makeup washed off and hair brushed away from your face, you were still a vision to him and Lando smiled at you softly as you walked over to him.

“Mhm, my roommate was just asking where I was.” he lied casually, still not wanting to be seen as too much of a cringey fanboy as he locked his phone in his hand. 

You walked into his outstretched arm and slid your hands over his bare chest and around his shoulders, “Do you need to go?”

Lando shook his head, his breath sweet and shallow as his heart rate sped up by just having you in arms reach and he bumped his nose gently against your cheek, “Not unless you want me to go.” 

Lingering just in front of his lips you whispered your response, “I wouldn’t mind some company tonight.”

“Yeah?” he smiled. 

You nodded with a smile of your own and guided him closer by the side of his neck to kiss his lips. He hummed softly into it and raised his hand up to cradle your cheek in return, letting his lips lock so effortlessly with yours. After a few seconds, you pulled him back towards the bed and you both climbed under the sheets together. 

“Did you wanna watch Netflix or something?” you asked. “It’s still a little early.” 

Lando hesitated for a moment at your side, “Is it weird if I ask you to read to me? I missed your reading today after all.” 

You laughed lightly but leaned right in and swallowed his lips up with eager kisses, “Mm, no, that’s so fucking sweet. Get your book.” 

Lando grinned and shuffled back out of bed to unzip his backpack and pull out his hardcover that only a few hours earlier he was waiting in line for you to sign. Now, he was taking it into your bed and passing it to you once more while holding his arm up to permit you to cuddle up against his chest. You rested back against him, both of you propped up slightly against the pillows, and he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek as you flipped to the first chapter. 

“You sure this isn’t weird?” he asked softly. 

You leaned your head back against his shoulder and smiled up at him, petting your hand through the side of his messy hair, “Promise. I love it.” 

Lando smiled back and leaned down to kiss your lips and then your temple as you turned back to your book. You read the first few chapters out loud - only stopping once to order room service for a late night snack and refreshments - and shared kisses between each chapter that only had Lando’s stomach fluttering with butterflies at how sweet your voice sounded reading the words that spoke wonders to him. He made you skip over the smut - whispering that he didn’t think he could handle getting hard again - and you did with a shy little laugh as he admitted that your filthy written words always had such an effect on him. 

When you were both fading, the half read novel was tucked onto the bedside table and the lights were turned off in exchange for the presence of each other’s bodies. He was a stranger to you but somehow he made you feel so warm inside like you had known him much longer than a few measly hours. His fingers twirled through the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck and you were put to sleep in mere moments after such a tiring day. 

As Lando held your slumbering body to your chest, his heart was soaring. He wondered if you could hear it racing for you, all his mind taken up by every last bit of you. 

Lando’s alarm went off at 8am, ringing loudly from the dresser across the hotel room. You stirred first and your shifting woke Lando as he had been clinging onto you like a koala all night. His tired eyes blinked open, trying to piece together where he was for a second and why his dorm room bed suddenly felt so comfortable and why his pillow he was clutching felt so warm. 

He had almost entirely forgotten that the previous day wasn’t a dream. 

When he blinked himself into consciousness, he shifted away from you at the annoying ringing of his alarm, “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” you yawned as he climbed out of the king size bed and traipsed across the clothing strewn floor to retrieve his phone and turned off the noise. 

He had class at 9:00 but he certainly wasn’t going to make it across the city in time if he took his time with you. In the mayhem of the previous night, he had completely forgotten about his class. 

“Shit.” 

“Everything okay?” you asked, rolling over to face him under the sheets with your hands tucked under your head. 

Lando glanced up at you, in awe of how angelic you looked in the morning, and then looked back down at his phone to pull up the bus schedule, “Yeah…just…forgot I had class this morning.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” you sighed, “I shouldn’t have kept you.”

“God, no, don’t be sorry.” Lando assured you quickly. “No regrets here.” 

You smiled up at him as he came over to the side of the bed and leaned down to kiss your lips. 

“I had a great night.”

You reached up to hold him by the back of his neck to keep his lips on yours a moment longer, “Me too.” 

Both of you pulled back from your kiss smiling and Lando nearly stumbled over his feet as he turned to retrieve his clothes from across the floor. You giggled at his clumsiness and sat up against the headboard to watch him pull his shirt on and button his slacks up. He looked as passé as one could be but in his mind, he was stewing about saying goodbye to you. He didn’t want to say goodbye to you. He didn’t want to never speak to you again. 

“Lando.” you called. 

He looked up at you from his belt, blue eyes wide, “Yeah?”

“You look good.” 

He cracked a small smile and looked back down to the buckle on his belt, “I feel good.”

“Wonder why.” you teased. 

He returned to the side of the bed and sat down to lean back with one hand propping himself up on the other side of your lap. You stared at each other for a moment, eyes moving between eyes and lips. He needed to ask. He felt stupid asking. 

He forced it out of his mouth, “Can I…can you…maybe follow me on Instagram? So we can maybe keep talking?”

You smiled cockily at him, “I was wondering when you were going to ask. Was starting to think you just saw me as a booty call.” 

Lando laughed awkwardly, relieved, “God, no.” 

“Pass me my phone?” you gestured to your purse sitting against the wall and he got up to reach into it and pull it out for you. When he returned to the side of the bed and you unlocked your phone, he leaned forward a little to peek at your background out of pure curiosity. The aesthetic picture of notebook paper and pen was almost expected. You opened Instagram, right away being notified of dozens of likes, comments and a few follows but you ignored them and selected the search bar. “What’s your user?”

“landonorris.” he said, leaning forward a little more as he spelt it for you, “l-a-n-d-o-n-o-r-r-i-s. All one word.” 

The sight of his profile appearing on your screen was almost more surreal than the sight of him inside you the night before and he bit back his smile as you requested to follow his private account. His follower count looked miniscule compared to yours but you didn’t seem to bat an eyelash at it. 

“There,” you said proudly, “Accept me and then send me a message. I wanna look at all your sexy pictures.” 

“They’re hardly sexy.” Lando scoffed. 

“You’re sexy so they will be too.” you giggled, leaning towards him slightly.

Lando laughed shyly under your strong compliments and he let his eyes flutter closed as your lips met. You both stayed still for a moment, letting your kiss linger between you before moving back in for a few more little ones. 

“You have a bus to catch.” you whispered as you pulled back. 

“Mhm.” Lando pouted. 

“Don’t forget your book.” you gestured to where the hardcover was left on the nightstand. 

He grabbed it quickly as he stood up again, “Right. Thanks.”

“Thank you for dinner, by the way.” you said, “And for a truly unforgettable night.”

Lando smiled bashfully, “Yeah. Right back at you.” 

He dipped down to kiss the corner of your mouth and then he started for the door of the hotel room. As it closed behind him and he was suddenly alone in the long hallway, he slouched back against the wall and let out a deep breath before taking another one in nice and slowly. He opened his instagram requests as he waited for the elevators and he couldn’t help but screenshot the sight of your verified account in his pending follower requests. 

With you now in his followers, he slid into your dms with a casual, 

landonorris: Hey 😉 Don’t forget to stop by the drug store today

The whole way back to campus, Lando was grinning out the window and holding your signed copy of your book to his chest. He felt as light as air and as if he had been living the most perfect dream the last 24 hours. The only thing he realized he had yet to do was read your note you left him in the inside cover of his book. In the light of the morning sun across the streets of Bristol, Lando carefully opened the hardcover novel and admired the crisp silver sharpie inked across the dark inside page in your careful handwriting, 

“Lando,

Thank you for being so thoughtful and genuine.”

Signed with your curling signature and a little heart. 

Tag List: @black-fireproofs @k3nmakyan @m4rt10ne @strawberryy-kiwii @herebereblogs

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[hypnobeauty]

A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 2)

summary: a story about how you and Hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, angst, transphobia, fluff if you squint really hard, pre-squid game, slice of life, timeline might be a bit wonky, this one is a bit sad. a/n: hey, didn't think i'd get any response on the previous part but people enjoyed and i'm happy! this time i decided to write some background for hyun; the show gives us very little on her, so i made up a lot of stuff. my shayla!! just a heads up, i know nothing of military, so i googled a bunch of stuff and probably faked some information. oh well. enjoy! xx comments are always appreciated ♥️ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @trizxyp - lemme know if you'd like to be added.

part 2. unexpected bloom

it was hyun-ju.

she’d lingered in the clinic longer than she’d planned, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you. she’d seen you when you first came in, laughing with your friend, and something about your energy had drawn her in. for a moment, she’d dared to hope you might still be there when she left. but when she scanned the waiting room, you were gone, and that small flicker of hope faded into disappointment.

she wasn’t sure why she cared. hyun-ju had felt your glances earlier, and while being stared at wasn’t new to her, it wasn’t something she ever got used to. there was always a tension in those moments—a question of whether the gaze was one of judgment, curiosity, or something worse. but with you, it had been different. there was no malice or disgust in the way you looked at her. if anything, you seemed… curious. interested, maybe. though she told herself she was probably imagining it.

as she sat in her car, her mind drifted back to the past months. it hadn’t been easy—nothing about transitioning ever was—but this was the life she had chosen, the life she’d fought for. hyun-ju’s life had changed drastically. almost a year ago, she’d lost her position in the army, a career she’d poured herself into for twelve long years. as a sergeant first class in the special forces, she’d been respected and admired, known for her skill and discipline. but when she came out to her superior—a man she’d once seen as a mentor, even a father figure—everything crumbled.

she’d gone into his office nervous but hopeful. maybe he’d understand. maybe, at worst, she’d lose a rank or face a transfer. but instead, he’d looked at her like she’d grown a second head, addressing her by her dead name and suggesting she was "confused" or "clouded in judgment." he gave her a week to reconsider her words but by the time she walked out of that office, her military career was over.

at thirty, she was adrift—jobless, heartbroken, and unsure of her place in the world. her girlfriend at the time hadn’t made it any easier. when hyun-ju told her about her plans to transition, the girl had simply said, “i can’t date a gay man. sorry.” no amount of explaining—about how she wasn’t gay, how she liked girls but was also a girl—seemed to get through. the girl left her in a café, bewildered and suddenly very alone.

in moments like that, hyun-ju often found herself reflecting on her life. even as a kid, she’d known she was different. she loved roughhousing with her brother, playing football in the middle of the road and riding her bike around the neighborhood, but she secretly longed to be the pink ranger when they played, even though she always ended up as the blue.

by the time puberty hit, her confusion had crystallized into a painful clarity. she envied the girls in her school—not just for who they were, or her personalities, but for how their bodies changed in ways hers never would. at fourteen, she tried confiding in a school counselor, but that backfired spectacularly when her father found out. the berating she endured and the punishment that followed left her with one lesson: never speak of it again.

her first girlfriend, ga-eul, had been a bright spot in those early years. hyun-ju liked to think she had been a good “boyfriend,” attentive and sensitive, but deep down, she’d longed to be seen for who she truly was. when she left for military service at eighteen, she and ga-eul parted ways.

many years later, when hyun-ju updated her social media with her new name and posted her first photo of her, ga-eul had sent her a message. “i always knew you were special. live your truth, hyun-ju.” it was small, but it meant the world to her.

even so, she carried that secret inside her, even as she became a star in physical education, even as she left for mandatory military service at eighteen. rising through the ranks to become a special forces sergeant first class was no small feat, especially for someone who had to constantly suppress half of who they were. but at home, behind closed doors, she allowed herself small moments of freedom. over time, she collected pieces of her true self—a pair of delicate earrings, a sleek dress, makeup she practiced applying in secret.

over the past nine months, hyun-ju had made strides toward becoming the woman she’d always been inside. hrt had softened her features, reshaped her body, and even brought a slight swell to her chest. now, every time she looked in the mirror, she felt closer to the person she’d always been inside. but it wasn’t enough—not yet.

this new chapter in her life wasn’t without its challenges. her savings, her army pension, and her cautious spending habits had carried her this far, but she hadn’t anticipated how expensive transitioning would be.  she’d started laser hair removal and gotten fillers and botox, but today’s procedure was her first major surgery: a rhinoplasty to smooth out the bump on her nose and reshape the tip and nostrils. she had other procedures planned—a facelift, jaw shaving, double eyelid surgery—but her surgeon had advised starting small. the costs were steep, but to her it was worth it.

and yet, the isolation that came with these changes weighed the most on her. she’d distanced herself from her family, avoided video calls, and cut ties with many of her old friends and colleagues. outside of her therapist and a trans support group she’d joined, she rarely interacted with anyone who truly saw her.

and then there was you.

two weeks later, you were back at the clinic with ha-neul, waiting outside the doctor’s office with your kindle. you were engrossed in your book when a quiet argument at the reception desk caught your attention. looking up, you saw her: hyun-ju.

she looked different from before, her hair slightly longer and tied in a small bun. she wore jeans, knee-high boots, and a trench coat, with a leather crossbody bag slung over her shoulder. but her face was what really caught your attention.

her nose was bandaged, the skin around it bruised and swollen. she looked tired, but it wasn’t just physical—it was the kind of weariness that came from carrying too much for too long. you weren’t sure why your breath hitched, but it did. then you caught snippets of the conversation.

“i’m sorry, miss,” the receptionist said with an apologetic smile. “we can’t dismiss you without a third-party signature. it’s for your safety.”

hyun-ju’s voice was soft but firm, laced in frustration. “i have no one.”

before you could think, you were on your feet, walking toward them. “i—i could help?” you stammered, unsure if you were even speaking to her directly.

she turned to you, her face swollen and bruised, her nose bandaged. for a moment, her expression was unreadable.

“i don’t know if you remember me,” you said quickly, trying to fill the silence. “we met a couple of weeks ago? i was with my friend ha-neul… oh, i didn’t introduce myself back then. i’m sorry.” you gave her your name, fumbling slightly, before adding, “if it’s okay, i could sign you out. i could even help you get home if you don’t think that’s… too much.”

hyun-ju hesitated, her gaze flickering between you and the receptionist.

in truth, she didn’t know what to think. she was exhausted, in pain, and desperate to leave. and then there was you—the girl who’d sat next to her, the one she couldn’t quite forget. you’d made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“why?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled gently. “why not?”

*

That’s how you ended up signing the dismissal form for a stranger and climbing into the back of an Uber with her. Hyun-ju sat stiffly beside you, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

You sent a quick text to Ha-Neul: “I had to leave, sorry! Explain later 😘😘.”

As the car pulled away, you glanced at her. She looked out the window, her profile softened by the dim light. You weren’t sure why you’d offered to help. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something more.

And maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of the story.

[levellyscorner]

Cowboy like Me (Outlaw!Bucky x F!Reader)

Summary: When Bucky Barnes and his gang derail a train expecting gold, they find a hidden heiress instead — sharp-tongued, silk-wrapped, and worth more than anything they came for. With orders to keep her close until a ransom can be arranged, Bucky is saddled with a woman who won’t beg, won’t yield, and turns captivity into a slow, dangerous game neither of them can win clean.

Tags: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes, Western AU, Enemies to Something Complicated, Forced Proximity, Hostage Situation, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Tension So Thick You Could Lasso It. Sharp-Tongued!Reader, Power Dynamics, Slow Burn (but not that slow), Dust, Gunpowder, and Glances, No One's Soft Here, Emotional Restraint (Literal and Figurative), She's Tied Up but Still in Charge, Rough Exterior, Worse Interior, One Horse, Two People, Too Much Heat. Reader Is Not a Damsel.

A/N: This story contains: one outlaw with more silence than sense, one heiress who doesn’t know how to shut up (and wouldn’t if she did), a horse that deserves a raise, and enough rope to make things interesting. Enjoy the ride and Yee-haw. PS: I Def got inspo from Red Dead Redemption 2

Word Count: 3,3272

Cowboy Like Me

"Forever is the sweetest con." 

Chapter 1: “This Is Why I Don’t Take Public Transit”

The sun hung low in the sky, a fiery orb that cast long, jagged shadows across the parched plains. The earth beneath was cracked and barren, like the skin of a dying beast, and the air shimmered with the heat of the day’s last breath. Dust swirled in the air like a golden haze caught in the dying light, clinging to everything in sight—rock, dirt, skin. The land stretched out in every direction, a sea of muted browns and yellows, broken only by the sharp silhouettes of cactus and scrub. Out here, nothing moved unless it had to—and even then, it was a struggle. 

Bucky knew this land like the back of his scrap metal arm. Every scar in the earth mirrored a scar on his body, every crack in the dirt a reminder of the world that had shaped him. He’d become a product of this unforgiving place, a living testament to its cruelty. His past a tangled mess of scars, both on his body and soul—was buried deep beneath a rough exterior. Hidden behind the cold stare of a man who had learned not to feel too much. His gang, his brothers in arms, were all that mattered. Loyalty to them was the only thing that kept him going. His loyalty was to the quick draw, the sharp shot, and the scent of gunpowder in the air. And for a man like him, there was nothing more reliable than the iron in his hand and the and the cold bite of steel over anything else.\ 

His eyes narrowed as he looked out over the horizon, watching the glint of metal growing larger in the distance as the smell of coal wafted through the air. The rhythmic chug of the train's engine was faint at first, but as it neared, the sound grew louder, more urgent as it snaked into view. He didn’t have to look behind him to know the gang was already moving into position.  

The train tore through the plain like a beast with steel bones and a fire-breathing heart, its smoke plume bleeding into the tangerine sky. Bucky pulled his horse around and signaled to the others with a sharp flick of his fingers. No words. None were needed. They knew the plan, had ridden it through a dozen times in the dead of night, across campfires and crumpled maps stained with sweat and whiskey. Tony let out a sharp whistle from down the ridge, and that was all it took. 

The gang moved as one—spurring their horses down the dusty slope, kicking up clouds that shimmered gold in the dying light. Bucky followed suit, crouched low in the saddle, metal hand gripping the reins tight as his horse pounded across the flats. They rode fast, drawing alongside the moving train, the roar of hooves and wheels colliding like a storm. 

As he neared the train he stood in the stirrups, crouched low, and launched himself onto the back of the train. Metal groaned beneath his boots, but he held steady. Behind him, the others followed—gripping handrails, hauling themselves up one by one like wolves climbing into the belly of a wounded beast. Bucky didn’t speak. He just nodded once to Steve, then slipped through the door into the first passenger car. 

The change in atmosphere was immediate. Inside, it was velvet curtains, soft lamplight, and the murmur of idle conversation—until the door slammed behind him. A woman screamed. A man cursed. Cards spilled across a velvet table. A bartender reached under the counter, and Bucky fired without hesitation. The shot rang out, sending patrons scrambling. 

“Down,” he barked. “Now.” 

They obeyed. He didn’t have to shout again. One look at the gleam of his metal arm and the revolver in his hand was enough. Torres moved past him, herding passengers into corners with a casual kind of menace. No one resisted. 

They swept the first car in under a minute. 

The second was louder—more crowded, packed with men in dust-covered suits and women clutching pearls like prayers. Sam disarmed a security guard with a twist of the wrist and a clean punch to the throat. Creed grabbed a man trying to sneak out the emergency door and tossed him back into the aisle like a sack of flour. 

Bucky kept moving. 

By the third car, the scent of perfume had faded into sweat and fear. The air felt tighter, more expectant. He could feel the heartbeat of the train now steady, pounding, alive. Each door he pushed through brought him closer to the last one. The one they were here for. 

The private car. 

Tony came up beside him, cocking his head, chewing a toothpick. “Private car?” he muttered. “Didn’t see that on the manifest.”  

“Neither did I,” Bucky said. He grabbed the handle and pushed. The door swung open with a slow, deliberate creak. Bucky stepped in first, revolver raised, breath steady. Gone was the stench of sweat and panic that clung to the rest of the train. The air in the private car was warm, perfumed faintly with rose oil and something sharper—like brandy soaked into wood. Afternoon light spilled in through half-drawn velvet curtains, washing the room in amber. Everything gleamed: brass fixtures, a crystal decanter, polished mahogany walls. A record spun lazily on the phonograph in the corner, its music soft and scratchy beneath the clack of wheels on the track. He was expecting the sharp bark of a guard or the startled shout of a tycoon. But in the center of it all sat you. 

You looked like you’d been carved from the stillness itself. Perched in a velvet armchair beside the window, one leg crossed neatly over the other, a book resting open in your lap. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t rise. You merely looked up with a slow, unhurried tilt of your chin, your gaze moving from Bucky’s revolver to his face with all the urgency of someone bored by theater. 

Bucky blinked once. 

Tony stepped in behind Bucky and came to a slow halt, boots falling silent against the velvet-lined floor. His eyes swept the room—over the glint of cut crystal, the curve of carved mahogany, the way the late sunlight spilled like liquid gold across your pale blue dress. You looked untouched by the chaos just three cars behind you. Serene. Still. Like something painted to be admired and never touched. His gaze lingered on your face, noting the calm in your eyes, the faint lift of your chin—the way you looked through them rather than at them. 

“Well, hell-” he murmured, a grin curling slow at the edge of his mouth. “Ain’t this a painting.” 

Bucky didn’t lower his gun. Didn’t raise it either. 

You looked up at him. Then Bucky. Then back to your book with a sigh so faint it felt like an insult. Without a word, you raised one gloved finger. 

Wait. 

You turned your gaze back to the page, reading — slowly, deliberately — as if the presence of two armed outlaws in your private railcar was no more urgent than a fly buzzing at the window. The train rumbled beneath you, but you didn’t so much as sway. Then, with a flick of your wrist, you snapped the book closed. Not in fear. Not in alarm. It was the sound of finality — of a woman deciding the scene could now proceed. “I take it this isn’t a coincidence,” you said, your voice smooth and slow, like honey trickling over a blade. 

Bucky opened his mouth, but Tony answered first. 

“She’s not part of the plan,” Bucky said, his voice low, edged in steel. 

He didn’t take his eyes off you. Didn’t need to. You sat like a statue cast in gold light—perfectly still, hands resting on the arms of your velvet chair, legs crossed with casual precision. The pale blue silk of your dress shimmered in the sunlight spilling through the half-drawn curtain. Not a single hair out of place. Not a single flicker of fear in your eyes. Tony’s footsteps slowed behind him. He stopped just inside the doorway, his posture shifting from swagger to scrutiny. The smirk that had been halfway to forming on his face never made it. His gaze swept the room, taking in the etched crystal on the sideboard, the lace trim on the window drapes, the distant murmur of a record still turning on the phonograph. 

“This car was supposed to be empty,” Tony muttered. “Cargo only. No staff. No passengers.” 

His eyes narrowed on you. 

“But look at this. Velvet chairs. Curtains tailored by hand. That dress.” He said the last word like it was a crime scene clue. “What the hell is this?”  

You didn’t answer. 

Didn’t rise to the question, or shrink beneath it. You stayed perfectly still in your seat, back straight, gloved hands resting lightly on the arms of your chair. Your ankles crossed neatly beneath layers of silk, not a single thread out of place.  

You blinked once. 

Slow. Measured. 

Then you looked up at him — not startled, not scornful. Just… bored. The kind of bored that weighed more than anger ever could. Like you’d been interrupted halfway through something more interesting, and couldn’t quite bring yourself to care enough to mask the inconvenience. 

It wasn’t disdain. 

It was worse. 

It was disinterest. 

Tony gave a short laugh under his breath, but it didn’t sound amused anymore. He stepped further into the car, boots quiet against the thick rug. “This car was listed as empty,” he said. “Freight only. No passengers, no staff. Just space.” He looked back at you, narrowing his eyes. “Which means whoever put her here didn’t want her seen.” 

Another beat passed. 

Tony’s smile returned, but this one was tight. Sharp at the edges. 

“Which means someone will miss her.” Tony turned toward him, his voice low. “She’s leverage, Buck. And I’m guessin’ she’s worth a lot more than whatever we came here for. We’ll take her with us- A girl like her? Tucked away in the back of a private car, no staff, no guards?” His mouth twitched into something crooked and cold. “That don’t happen unless she’s important. And when someone this expensive disappears… bells start ringin. ”  His jaw squared. His tone dropped. The air in the car went taut.  

“Tie her.” 

Bucky didn’t move — not at first. But his fingers twitched near his hip, just above the length of coarse rope looped through his belt. It wasn’t for show. It was the kind of rope used for drag-outs and battlefield improvisations — not velvet-skinned heiresses. 

But Tony didn’t care. 

“I said tie her. Hands behind her back. Tight.” He gestured with a curt nod toward the rear door. “She rides with you. You’re in charge of our lady now. She gets clever, or cute, or loose—that’s on you.” 

The silk of your dress caught against the velvet seat with a whisper, folding around your legs as you rose like a blade being drawn from its sheath. You stood tall — not like you were squaring off against them, but like you were already above them. You didn’t need height. You had presence. And suddenly, that sunlight behind you felt like a spotlight. Your voice was smooth, but the undercurrent in it was lethal. “You’re out of your damn mind.” 

Tony blinked. 

Even Bucky shifted slightly. 

The offense in your tone wasn’t theatrical. It wasn’t panicked. It was the kind that lived deep — in your bones, your blood. The kind worn by women who had been raised not to be touched without permission. “You break into my railcar,” you said, voice crisp, cut-glass perfect — all vowels sharpened and smoothed in the same breath, the kind of tone bred in old-money parlors and perfected over champagne and backroom politics. 

You took a step forward, silk shifting like water around your legs. 

“—track dust across hand-loomed velvet, talk about me like I’m a shipment of sugar cane, and then decide I ought to be trussed up like a damn steer?” 

Tony didn’t answer your tirade — not with words. 

He just flicked his gaze to Bucky and jerked his chin. That was the only command he needed to give. 

Bucky didn’t speak. He just moved — quiet and reluctant, the way a man moves when he doesn’t like the thing he’s about to do. The rope came free from his belt with a low hiss, the fibers rough, worn, military-issue. Not meant for wrists like hers. Not meant for this. With one swift motion a gloved hand pressed flat against the small of your back, not violently, but with force — solid, unquestionable, final. His other arm caught your wrists before they even fully left your sides, pulling them behind you in one clean, ruthless motion. 

The rope followed — slipping around your skin in a single practiced loop, rough fibers dragging over silk and bare flesh alike, biting through the space where grace had reigned only seconds before. It was the kind of movement born from instinct, not intention — the reflex of a man who didn’t wait for yes or no when the stakes were high. 

You were bound before you had time to object. 

You turned your head slightly, lips parted as if to speak — but the knot was already halfway done. 

Efficient. Quick. Deliberate. 

It wasn’t a soldier’s knot. It was a warning. 

You inhaled sharply, chest rising against the stiff boning of your corset. Fury bloomed hot beneath your ribs — not just at the rope, but at the sheer audacity of being silenced by speed. Pinned down without a single word passing your lips. Your voice, when it came, was cold and smooth as glass. 

“I’ve seen livestock handled with more ceremony.” 

The rope paused mid-pull — just for a second. Enough for the silence to sting. Tony’s laugh cracked through the tension like a matchstrike from the door. “That one’s gonna be a real joy on the ride.”  

You held your spine straight, eyes forward, chin lifted with that practiced, noble poise — even now, even bound — as though the train still belonged to you. The sunlight behind you spilled gold across the satin of your sleeves, your silhouette like something carved from marble and fury. 

You shifted just slightly — enough for your voice to find him, smooth and knife-edged, cut for the kill. “No hesitation,” you murmured, the words slipping from your lips like silk over steel. “How very charming. Do you tie up all your women this quickly, or am I just special?” 

Bucky didn’t reply. 

But the final tug on the rope slowed — just a hair. Enough for you to feel it. Your lips curled — the barest hint of satisfaction blooming there like something dangerous. 

“Mm. That’s what I thought.” 

Quick as a trigger pull. Without a word, his arm snaked behind your knees and, in one seamless, startling motion, he lifted you. You didn’t stumble. You didn’t even have time. The world tilted hard as your body was hoisted upward, silk skirts spilling over his arm like water pouring from a shattered vase. Your cheek pressed to the rough shoulder of his coat, the heavy scent of leather and sun-baked dust filling your lungs. 

The position was inelegant. Indelicate. Undeniably humiliating. 

Your hair slid over your shoulder in soft waves, brushing against the rough canvas of his coat as the motion jostled you. One satin strap slipped slightly, tugged askew by gravity and friction. The sunlight caught on the fine embroidery of your bodice, casting threads of silver and sea-glass blue across his back — a beautiful ruin. 

You were silk-wrapped, dust-drenched, and livid. 

The hem of your dress bunched at your hips where his forearm pinned your thighs, and your corset bit into your ribs with every sway of his stride. The rope at your wrists had no give — each step tugged it tighter. You could feel the heat of him through his shirt, the effortless power in his gait. The certainty in it. He carried you like you weren’t resisting, like your weight meant nothing — like your fury didn’t burn through your bones. 

But it did. 

Oh, it did. 

You narrowed your eyes, lashes brushing your cheekbone as you forced your breathing into something measured. Elegant. Controlled. 

If you couldn’t have dignity, you’d have defiance. 

And it radiated off you like perfume. 

Outside the railcar, the world erupted in color — golden light flaring across the plains, shadows stretching long and lean like scars across the earth. The sky had begun its descent into fire, stained with deep tangerine, bruised rose, and the molten edge of dusk. Bucky descended the steps with you slung over his shoulder, boots hitting iron and gravel with quiet finality. Each step jarred the breath in your lungs, rattled through your ribs, and pressed your cheek harder against the thick weave of his coat. The scent of sunbaked leather and gun oil clung to him — not unpleasant, but sharp, worn-in, unapologetically male. 

You didn’t struggle. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. But you held yourself rigid, like a board of lacquered oak, as if your posture alone could rewrite the scene — make it something less savage, less undignified. The hem of your dress fluttered in the wind, snagging on the butt of Bucky’s revolver, dragging in the dirt behind you. One slipper had been lost somewhere inside the train. The other swung helplessly with each step, a ridiculous echo of grace. 

It slapped softly against your foot, rhythmically — a final insult in a performance you hadn’t volunteered to give. Dust clung to your calf, to the trailing threads of your hem, to the edge of your dignity. And still, you didn’t break. 

You didn’t scream. 

Didn’t squirm. 

You burned. 

Every inch of you was locked with tension — not fear, but rage held steady. The kind that didn’t explode. The kind that sharpened. That waited. 

The sun clung to the horizon like a dying flame, catching in the glint of your earrings, the shimmer of ruined embroidery, the strands of your hair that had come loose and now whipped lazily in the wind. You were a painting half-destroyed and somehow more arresting for it. Bucky walked as if you were weightless. Like he didn’t feel the defiance simmering off you — or maybe he did, and he just didn’t flinch from it. 

The gang watched in stillness. 

A few leaned forward. One man shifted on his boots like he didn’t know whether to nod or kneel. But no one laughed. Because there was nothing funny about the way you looked — slung over his shoulder, silk and salt and sunlight, eyes that didn’t belong to the conquered. There was nothing funny about a woman who could be bound and still make the desert feel colder with a single glance. 

He reached the horse in silence. The animal snorted, hooves shifting in the dirt, sensing the tension in the air — or maybe just the weight of what Bucky was about to hoist into its saddle. 

He didn’t pause. 

Didn’t offer a word of warning. 

His arm adjusted beneath your knees, the other tightening against your back. And with one sharp, fluid movement — more strength than grace — he swung you up into the saddle like gear being packed for the ride.  

It wasn’t just ungentle. 

It was disrespectful. 

You sat still for a beat — breath caught, jaw clenched — willing your posture to hold when everything in you screamed to curse, to spit, to shove back. Your spine refused to slump. If anything, it straightened further. The train, the dirt, the rope — they could take the softness, but they would not take your bearing. 

Your voice, when it came, was velvet over razors. 

“Well,” you said, blinking dust from your lashes. “That was charming.” 

Bucky stepped around to the saddle’s near side, adjusting the cinch strap, not bothering to meet your eye. Your lips curled, not in a smile, but in something far older. Meaner. “You could’ve at least pretended I was breakable,” you added, voice high-society sharp, every consonant a dagger. “Or is throwing women around just part of your technique?” 

Still no answer. 

Not even a glance. 

He simply checked the weight of his satchel, then reached for the reins like you weren’t even there. 

Your legs had twisted awkwardly to one side, skirts bunched beneath you, the cinch of the rope across your spine making every small shift feel like a punishment. But you moved with purpose, carefully straightening your posture, lifting your chin — forcing your bound body to mimic control, authority, even if the raw skin at your wrists told another story. He climbed up in front of you a second later, settling into the saddle without so much as a glance over his shoulder. 

Still silent. 

Still avoiding you. 

And you weren’t having it. 

You leaned forward, just enough that your voice would carry — low, smooth, for him and only him. “You know,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, “if I wanted to be ignored by a man with nothing to say, I’d have stayed in town and gotten married.” 

Still no answer. 

He stared straight ahead — stone-jawed and stiff in the saddle, like the horizon was more interesting than the woman he’d manhandled onto his horse like a sack of sugar. 

You tilted your head slightly, lashes lowering in practiced irritation, and let the silence stretch. Your posture didn’t falter — no slumping, no giving in to the weight of the restraints or the ride. 

Only your voice moved. 

“Quiet and dull,” you added, letting the words slip out like perfume laced with poison. “How lucky for me.” 

You caught it — the smallest shift. The faint grind of his molars. A pulse in his jaw. 

Good. 

Your lips curved, barely. Satisfaction, not softness. You settled back against the saddle, rope taut across your back, spine still straight. The wind caught your hair, sweeping it across your shoulder like a flag of defiance. Even bound, even bruised, you looked like someone who hadn't lost yet. 

And then you twisted the knife — gently, of course. 

“I’m beginning to think the rope was the most interesting thing about you.” 

His hand tightened on the reins, leather groaning in his fist. Still silent. 

But that was all the reply you needed 

[nerdygaymormon]

Hi! I’m a young trans person in the lds church, and I feel like I’ve never really been able to get a true answer from anyone, since almost no one I know is both LDS and gay.

So- on the church website, it says that if you start transitioning in any way, you won’t be able to do things like go to the temple, and that… that just doesn’t make sense to me. They have scriptures to back it up, but I don’t understand why being trans would mean you’re unclean or not worthy enough to go to the temple. If it’s against the scriptures, then why would God create trans people?

I desperately want to transition one day, but I also don’t want to have to leave my faith. They say it’s okay to have these feelings as long as you don’t do anything about them… but does that mean I’m just supposed to sit here and do nothing? Sit here with the dysphoria for the rest of my life? Never be married?

Thank you for your time! It’s okay if you don’t know how to answer this :] I’m honestly just grateful to find someone who’s also gay and Mormon

Hello my young trans friend!

I agree, transitioning in no way has anything to do with your worthiness or value. It is a policy. The policy has changed several times and certainly will change again. Until then, you're forced to make choices which feel unfair. The thing about choices is every choice you make closes some doors and opens others.

I also agree with your logic that if God didn't want you to transition then God wouldn't have made you trans. I have trans friends who find that every step into their gender is a step closer to God.

God has a plan for us, all of us, different paths. We live in a world where you can become what you need to be and find people who will understand and love you for it. God gives us choices. God doesn't give you freedom but refuse to let you use it. God lets you make choices to find happiness, whether that's choices to stay eligible to go to the temple or choices along your gender journey.

What if you and I are wrong and transitioning is a sin? God forgives our missteps. God is understanding of mistakes. If you worry that transitioning is sinful, try praying and see what answers you get.

I recommend finding some queer LDS friends, they'll get you in a way others don't. Queerstake on Tumblr is one place to find queer Mormons, you can also find them on Discord at Queerward. Lift+Love is a good resource where you can find support groups, queer Latter-day Saints and allies.

You don't have an easy path ahead of you, and I wish you all the hope and love as you walk forward. I believe in time that you'll find that you have power to make a better world for yourself and others.

————————————————————

I'm going to end this response with some scriptures that I hope you'll find affirming.

Genesis 1 & 2

Gender is an interesting concept here. If these weren’t metaphorical figures but were actual people, and Eve was actually created from Adam’s side, then they share the same DNA, meaning Eve would be Adam’s genetic twin. Eve would have begun as male and then transitioned into a female.

The Bible states that “God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he them; male and female created he them” (Gen 1:27). One way to think of “male and female” is that these are the two options, God made the male and God made the female and that’s it. However, another way to look at this is one end of a spectrum and the other end of a spectrum, and everything in between, like when we use the first & last letter of the alphabet to mean everything, A to Z, or Alpha & Omega.

Even the other parts of the creation which are presented as a binary are actually bimodal, meaning most incidences are concentrated around two ends of the spectrum but they aren’t the only option. For example, God made day & night, but there’s also sunrises and sunsets. God separated the sky from the water, but the sky has clouds which hold water. Separating the water from the dry land still includes marshes, bogs, & swamps where the water & land are mixed.

The binaries presented in the creation story are not binaries but spectrums, and are pleasing unto God. Why would we not expand that lesson to include other parts of creation, including people, especially since that fits what we find is the reality? Gender is a spectrum, sexual orientation is a spectrum.

—————————

Genesis 3:20; Genesis 17:5&15; Genesis 32:28; Numbers 13:16; Matthew 16:17-18

Throughout the Bible we find individuals whose name is changed, sometimes by God and sometimes by another person. These new names are about who God always knew the person to be or in recognition of a new identity. The new name changes how the person is known and perceived by others.

Adam initially calls the other human "woman, but after she partakes of the fruit, Adam starts calling her Eve because she’ll be the “mother of all living.” His perception of her changed and so did the role he foresaw for her, giving her a new name reflects this.

God reaffirms the promises made to Abram and Sarai. God changes Abram’s name to Abraham which means “father of many nations,” and the name Sarai to Sarah, which possibly means “princess of many.” This reflects their new identity as the father and mother of the Jewish people.

Jacob wrestled with & defeats God, then demands a blessing from God. “Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel; for you have struggled with God and with men, and have prevailed” (Gen 32:28). The name Israel means “wrestles with God” or “prevails with God,” and foreshadows the life of Israel, and even the nation of Israel. With this name, God recognizes Israel’s path. In like manner, when someone we know changes their name, it's as a way to recognize their path.

Moses is going to send 12 spies into the Promised Land, one of whom is Hoshea. Before sending him, Moses gives Hoshea a new name of Joshua, which means “YHWH (God) is salvation.” With the name change, Moses was giving encouragement to Joshua, empowering and assisting his journey. I think the same is true of many queer people who change their name, they find it empowering and gives them momentum forward on their journey.

Jesus changes Simon’s name to Peter, which means “rock.” At the time, the word “Peter” was not used as a name but Jesus chose it to emphasize that Peter would be the foundation the church would rely on when Jesus is gone. Jesus saw in him incredible strength and wants Peter to also see himself this way.

Not everyone who is trans or nonbinary will change their name, but many will. They’ve had to transform how they understand themselves, changing from what they’ve been told is true about them into what they know to be their own truth. They name themselves as a way to call their true self and identity into being. When a person chooses a new name and discards their deadname, it’s an act of creation, it’s transformational.

—————————

Deuteronomy 22:5

This is the only Biblical verse that references cross-dressing. People like to invoke this verse against people in drag and also against members of the queer community who are trans, nonbinary or genderfluid.

From what I can discover, Jewish interpretation of this law doesn’t prohibit cross-dressing or drag. There are writings about this being forbidden if it will lead to adultery, if it’s used as part of idol worship, or as a disguise so we can cause harm to another.

A drag queen isn’t trying to fool people into believing he is a women, the audience is in on it. Drag performers are playing with society’s concepts of gender.

A trans woman is a woman, that is their gender identity. This verse says they should dress as a woman (the opposite of how a lot of bigoted people try to use the verse).

If the purpose of this verse is to avoid harm, then we need to think about how forcing someone to present themselves as a gender they don’t identify with can cause them harm–depression, suicidality, self-harm, body dysmorphia, and distress. Why would you force someone to present themselves in a way they don’t identify with?

When I buy clothes, they are now my clothes. I’m a man so these are now men’s clothes, no matter what section of the store I found them in. I have a brother who has feet so narrow that he often has to get women’s sneakers because they fit his feet. Since they’re his shoes, I consider them men’s shoes. 

People who say trans people shouldn’t dress a certain way because it’s against the Bible, do they think men wore pants back at the time this verse was written?

—————————

Isaiah 56:3-7

Eunuchs are men whose genitals have been damaged or removed. At that time, eunuchs were seen as “other,” they didn't fit the gender binary. They can be seen as the equivalent of today’s LGBTQIA community. They were prohibited from taking part in Israel’s worshiping community.

But Isaiah writes not just that eunuchs would be allowed to participate, but that they’ll have a place greater than sons or daughters. It’s a radical inclusiveness, there is no one who is marginalized in God’s eyes.

Just as God opened his arms to the eunuchs of yesteryear, today all LGBTQIA people who love and serve God are invited to become full members in God's spiritual family. The problem is most churches have not embraced the idea of full fellowship for us, but that day is coming. It’s not the Lord who is denying us full fellowship. Over and over we see prejudice, discrimination and animosity, but then Spirit moves people towards openness, welcome, inclusion, acceptance, and affirmation.

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Jeremiah 1:5

There’s 3 parts to this verse, each are remarkable.

1) God formed us. We were intentionally made. You are not a mistake. All the crucial parts of us were woven together, which of course includes our gender and sexuality as those are important parts of who we are. Science has found that our orientation & gender identity are literally woven throughout our biology

2) God intimately knows who we are, our heart and spirit and personality. Even before creating our physical bodies, God knew us and loved us.

3) Even before his birth, God called Jeremiah to be a prophet. Obviously this was based on God’s knowledge of who Jeremiah was. I think it’s comforting to think that there are plans for us based on God's knowledge of us. I don’t know God’s individual plan for me, and thus I don’t have to worry that I’m messing up God’s plans for me. God knows the plan, not me. God knows what’s in store for us. As we partner with God, we’re guided on our journey

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Matthew 4

In preparation of beginning His ministry, Jesus fasted 40 days. In His weakened state, the devil shows up to tempt Him, to divert Him from His ministry. The devil would begin each temptation by saying, “If thou be the Son of God…” Jesus knew who He was, but the devil challenged that and tried to plant doubts.

I find something similar happens to many queer people as they are coming out. 

It’s a phase

How do you know?

I don’t believe you

But we didn’t raise you to be that way

This goes against our religion

I’m disappointed in you

Why would you choose this?

We don’t agree with that lifestyle

It’s a fad for teens to say this

You’ll grow out of it

You shouldn’t label yourself

The scriptures say…

Jesus knew who He was, He didn’t let the devil convince Him otherwise. Queer people know who they are. Coming out is a power move that will transforms their future, gives them control over their life and the choices they make.

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Romans 1:20

When we want to know about God, we look at God’s creations, these will testify of what God is like. Considering all we can see around us, it testifies that God loves diversity. God loves exceptions. God loves peculiarities. God doesn’t stick to binaries. God revels in variety.

Same-sex behavior (courtship, sex, pair-bonding, and parental activities) has been documented in over 450 species of animals worldwide. Several animal species exhibit the ability to change sex, an individual animal is born one sex and can later transition to the other sex. Consider what this teaches us about God.

[sentientgolfball]

I'd be Home With You

Continuing the Devotion universe with this sorta sequel! You don't need to read Devotion to understand the story, but if you're worried or just want some added context all you'd need to read is the final chapter. Also Swiss is referred to as Multi throughout most of the story as he has not chosen the name Swiss…yet. Also pspsp @thehypnone

Read here or on ao3

Pairing: Swissalps

Word Count: 19k

Tags: hurt/comfort, Mountain has depression and I apologize in advance, eventual happy ending, one small mention of retching, brief violence

Summary: A new pack and Dew's elemental transition have cast a cloud of dread over Mountain's mind. He tries to remain the pack's perfect provider, but when the earth crumbles the one to fill the cracks is the last person he would have considered.

Or

How Mountain and Swiss fell in love.

Navy blue dappled with sparkles of silver slowly melt away into a soft orange. That soft orange turns into an even yellow before finally giving way to bright blue. Mountain watches each transformation the sky goes through. His head is leaning against his soft downy pillow and his blanket is up to his chin, yet his eyes are wide open. They have been for nearly the entire night. 

Sleep is not something that has been finding him recently. Not since he heard Dew’s screams and smelled the scent of burning flesh. Really it goes back further than that though. His mind has not been grounded ever since Dew first told him and Aether of his plan to become a fire ghoul. That was months ago. Long before the actual ritual. Long before their den was filled with new ghouls of various elements. 

 Mountain sighs. Even though he is beyond exhausted, he throws his blanket off him. He needs to get up. Laying in bed while the sun creeps higher and higher in the sky will do him no good. Though he is not sure how much better it will be to go out into the world with a mask of calm. But someone has to make breakfast. He has to make sure his pack is fed. Because if he will not, then who?

He swings his legs over the side of his bed, hooves clacking when they make contact with the hardwood floor. He stands, making his way to the bathroom. Each potted plant he passes leans in his direction before snapping back into place once he is out of range, as if the leaves and the vines were reaching out to him. He flicks on the light with a claw tipped finger. He takes a moment to just stare at his reflection. Dark circles have formed under his eyes, deep purple against forest green. His hair is getting longer. He does not remember the last time he trimmed it. His fur does not look as shiny as it used to. He barely recognizes himself anymore. 

He tries not to dwell on it. He has more important things to do than worry about his physical appearance. He has a pack that needs to be taken care of. 

He turns on the faucet, letting the water heat to a comfortable temperature. Once warm enough, he cups his hands. He lets it pool in his palms until it spills over before leaning down so he can splash the water in his face. He repeats the process a few more times. Until he deems himself awake and present enough. This has become a daily ritual for him. He used to have enough time to wake up and shower before getting breakfast made for the pack, but with each sunrise he finds himself laying in bed longer and longer. He cannot shower if he wants to have food ready at the same time he always has. So a few splashes of water and maybe some soap, if he remembers, will have to do. 

He lifts his head, making eye contact with his reflection once more as water drips from the fur on his face. He does not stare this time though. Instead he grabs a hand towel and dries himself. When his fur is only a little damp, he tosses the towel in his laundry basket. He takes a deep breath, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, searching for his center. Searching for the strength to face the day like everything is normal. He exhales, shoulders falling. He grabs his hearing aids from the corner of the counter, puts them in and walks out of the door. 

His plants reach for him again as he goes, but he does not stop. If he stops now he may not make it out. He walks down the hall, trying to steer his thoughts in the direction of breakfast. French toast sounds good. He brought in a fresh harvest of berries the other day, so he could add strawberries and blueberries to it. Though he is not sure if there is cinnamon in the kitchen. He will just have to see how many ingredients they have. 

As Mountain passes by Dew’s door, his even steps falter. His eyes glance to the handle. He knows Dew is awake. Even before the fire, he was always an early riser. But ever since the ritual, he has woken up the moment the first rays of the sun shine through the dark. Just like every other fire ghoul in the Ministry, called to consciousness by Her energy. 

A part of him wants to twist the handle, see if it is locked. See if he can get in and join Dew for whatever little morning routine he has now, even if it is just laying in bed. Mountain does not think he would mind missing breakfast if it meant hours alone with his Dewdrop. 

But then the cold fog of guilt comes creeping in. He has not entered Dew’s room without explicit invitation since that fight six months ago. When he uttered the words he so desperately wished he could take back. So Mountain just sighs and keeps walking. He will not invade Dew’s space. Especially not first thing in the morning when he has no idea what kind of pain day it is. 

When Mountain rounds the corner to the common room, he is surprised to see Multi sitting at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. Well, he is not surprised it is Multi, he seems to always be the first up beside Mountain himself. He is simply startled to see anyone else yet. Usually he at least has breakfast started before anyone wanders in. He must have stayed in bed for too long. He will be sure to get up extra early tomorrow to make up for it. 

Multi is humming to himself, tail and legs swaying to the rhythm in his head. Mountain is not exactly a silent creature, but he makes sure his hoof falls are extra heavy so as not to startle him. When that clack clack clack reaches his ears, Multi spins around on his stool and flashes Mountain a fang filled smile. 

“Morning,” his voice is still raspy from disuse. He must have only just woken up. 

“Good morning.” Mountain returns the smile. If he shows no signs of the weight of his exhaustion then perhaps Multi will not question his tardiness. 

“Ya know when I didn’t see you right away I was worried I’d have to figure out food on my own,” He teases, “but hey there’s nothing wrong with a few extra hours.”

Of course. 

Mountain steps fully into the kitchen and opens the top cabinets to look for ingredients, “Yeah. Long day in the greenhouse. Guess I was more tired than I thought.” He keeps his voice light. Easy. Just two ghouls having a conversation. 

He is genuinely glad it is only Multi out here though. He does make it easier. Mountain has probably spent the most amount of time with him versus the other new summons. He always seems so eager to learn so Mountain has been happy to teach. Cooking lessons, an hour or two in the greenhouse to test his earth magick, technology questions. Multi seems to default to him whenever anything new catches his interest. Mountain is thankful for it. It keeps his head clear. As a result, Multi has become familiar. Easy. 

Once Mountain is sure they have all the dry ingredients he floats around the kitchen, grabbing the bowls, cups, and utensils he will need. He can feel Multi’s eyes on him the entire time. He can feel the question burning the tip of his tongue. He is always like this. Always hesitant to actually ask, but once the door opens he never seems to stop. 

“Have I shown you how to make French toast before?” Mountain turns to look at him. 

Multi shakes head causing the golden cuffs adoring his locs to jingle, “Nope.” 

“Come here then.” He smiles softly. 

Multi is quick to hop off the barstool and around the counter into the kitchen. His tag wags happily behind him as he comes to stand beside Mountain. 

“It’s a pretty simple recipe. Kind of like pancakes.” 

“So I’m gonna drop shit on the floor?” 

“I’d like to believe your flipping skills have improved since then.” 

“Only cause I have such a great teacher.” Multi bumps his hip against Mountain’s. 

Mountain simply hums, the smile on his face growing ever so slightly. Multi really has become familiar. An integral part of his morning routine. Rather than drinking caffeinated tea in a futile attempt to wake his brain up, he has Multi’s shining grin to pull his mind from the shadows. It is nice. Especially since he seems to see his original pack less and less with each day. Aether back to working in the infirmary. Dew dealing with his health after the change and his ever growing closeness with Rain. Ifrit and Zephyr doing whatever it is retired ghouls do. 

But Multi is here. Solid and present. He is still so new in comparison, yet Mountain feels content with him. 

“Okay mister chef, how do we make this toast?” Multi eyes the dry ingredients sitting next to the mixing bowl. 

“Grab the milk and three eggs for me?” 

Multi pads over to the fridge, slinging it open with enough force to make a handful of bottles on the door shelf cling together. He pulls out the glass that contains the milk fresh from Ministry livestock. He sets it on the nearest counter before grabbing out three eggs. 

He holds them to his chest like is scared he will drop them otherwise, “Now what?” 

“Go ahead and measure out the dry ingredients.” Mountain chuckles and takes the eggs from him. 

Multi nods and smiles at him before picking up the measuring cups. Mountain tells him how much they will need for each ingredient. Multi is very careful to not spill anything, brow furrowed in concentration as he scoops up flour and sugar and cinnamon. 

Cinnamon. 

Such a strong scent. It had burnt his nose the first time he walked into Dew’s infirmary room. It was so intense. Nothing like Ifrit or Alpha. Sharp and spicy. But still so sweet. A perfect contrast to the bandaged body that laid unconscious under white sheets. 

“How much is a pinch?” Multi holds the container of salt, turning it around in his hands as he examines it. 

Mountain blinks, eyes refocusing as his mind comes back to reality, “What?” 

“You said I needed a pinch of salt. I have no idea what kind of measurement that is.” 

“Right. Yes. It’s uh it’s exactly what it sounds like. Just pinch your fingers in the salt and throw whatever you get into the mix.” 

Multi shrugs, “Whatever you say. What’s next?” 

“Uh milk. We need the milk. Just a cup.” 

Instead of turning to grab the glass container, Multi turns towards Mountain, “You alright? Your inflection sounds weird.” 

He shakes his head and forces a smile onto his face, “I’m fine. Just tired.” 

“Ya know I’m sure I could figure out a decent breakfast if you wanna start sleepin in more.” 

He probably could. Mountain has been giving him cooking lessons nearly everyday. But then what else does he have? If he cannot be the one to provide for his pack then why get out of bed in the morning? He knows Multi is just trying to be helpful. Show his care for Mountain. But he does not understand how badly he needs this. 

“It’s no problem really.” Mountain assures him. 

Multi looks at him like he does not quite believe him, “Well if it ever does become a problem tell me. I’d like to help.” 

Mountain only hums, acknowledging his words but putting an end to this conversation. He slides closer to Multi, “Here let me mix the batter.” 

Multis gives Mountain a lingering look, but scoots off to the side. Though he does not go far. He stays close enough that Mountain’s arm brushes against his each time he grabs one of the cups with the ingredients. Mountain does not mind. It is better than having him continue to insist he take a break. 

He lets Multi watch for a little, just long enough to see how he slowly whisks everything in. When he gets to the last cup he tilts his head towards the stove, “Heat up a pan and grab the bread.” 

He gives Mountain’s arm a squeeze and nods. He crouches down to dig around in the cabinet next to the oven, searching for the same pan they use for pancakes. He makes a little ah ha noise when he finds it. The sound of metal clanging against metal briefly fills the room as he wrestles it out from under the pots. While he does that, Mountain lifts the whisk to watch the batter fall off, testing the thickness. 

Multi stands back up, pan in hand. He swipes the cabinet door closed with his tail as he sets it down on one of the burners. The stove turns on with a click as he turns the dial to a nice medium heat. 

“Remember to—“

“To butter the pan,” Multi smiles at him, “Don’t worry. I got it. I learned my lesson after last time.” 

Last time had Multi scrubbing egg off the pan for the better half of an hour. Mountain was just proud that he did not let anything burn even when it got stuck. 

Mountain lifts the whisk again, giving a satisfied hum. He pulls the bread from the breadbox and grabs the container of butter from the fridge for Multi. He holds it out for him and their hands brush when he grabs it. Mountain then grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer for him. He watches Multi scoop up a little more than probably necessary and plop it onto the pan. The sound of sizzling fills the kitchen and Mountain has to fight to keep his face even. 

Like water getting burnt away into nothing. 

Oh how he wishes he could reach up and rip his hearing aids out so he does not have to listen. 

“Now what?” Multi’s tail begins to wag again. The tip of it brushes against Mountain’s calf with each flick. Mountain’s own tail instinctively reaches out to twine together with his. 

“Now we soak the bread in the mixture. Just two at a time. The pan isn’t big enough for more than that.” Mountain pulls the bowl closer to the stovetop. 

They stare at each other. Neither of them move. Multi then looks between Mountain and the bowl, a look of realization lighting up his face, “You want me to do it?” 

Mountain smiles, “Have to learn somehow.” 

Multi gives him a fang filled grin and grabs two bread slices. He plops them into the mixture with more force than necessary. He pokes them with the tips of his claws, making sure every part of the bread is submerged. Mountain does not have the heart to tell him that he definitely does not need to do that. The look of joy on his face warms his heart. If he can make his packmate happy, then he supposes a few soggy pieces of French toast are fine. He will eat those if he has to. As long as Multi’s eyes continue to sparkle. 

When he deems the bread squishy enough, Multi picks them as carefully as he can. Droplets of the mixture drip down his hand and onto the counter. Then onto the stovetop when he brings it over to the pan. As does this, a few fall into the burner. It makes a hissing noise as the mixture burns. 

Instead of charred sugar and milk, Mountain smells the sour rot of flesh. Acrid. Sickly-sweet. A scent he will never forget. He can hear Dew’s screams echoing in his head. The smell of burning fat and flesh filled the stone hallway like an invisible fog. His stomach churns like it did as he waited outside the ritual room. 

He cannot fight the gag that crawls up his throat. He is lucky he has not eaten anything yet today or it might have come up. His hands slam down heavily on the counter, keeping himself steady with the force his body bends into itself. Salvia fills his mouth and he squeezes his eyes shut as he focuses on pushing the feeling away. 

Burning. 

Dew is burning and he cannot do anything to stop it. 

Dew will die if he tries. 

Dew cannot die. 

Dew has to live. He has to. 

An arm thrown over his shoulders and a hand on his bicep pulls him from his mind. Amber and spice replaces the sour scent as Multi guides Mountain over to one of the barstools. He sits him down, but keeps a hand between his shoulder blades. 

“Mountain?” He asks with concern. 

He shakes his head, “‘M fine.” 

“I don’t think people who are fine do that. What happened?” 

What is he supposed to say? He had to stand guard at Dew’s ritual to make sure it did not get interrupted and now the slightest hint of something burning makes him want to puke? Multi does not need to know that. He does not need to be burdened with the weight Mountain carries. 

“Really I’m okay. Just need to eat something. Must’ve been more hungry than I thought.” 

Multi hums, not totally convinced but not willing to argue either. His hand runs slowly up and down Mountain’s back. Mountain appreciates the gesture. It is soothing. Grounding. Something for him to focus on so his mind cannot slip back. He finds himself leaning into it. 

They sit like that for a little before Mountain tries to stand up again. Though Multi is quick to stop him. 

“You keep your big ass in that chair.” 

“Multi it’s fine. I’m feeling better already.” 

“Nuhuh you’ve been actin weird all morning. Ass. Chair.” 

Multi applies more pressure between his shoulder blades before walking off. Mountain has half a mind to get up and just finish the cooking now that the ghoul almost as big as him is not hovering over him. But then he sees Multi pass the stove in favor of the fridge. He watches him open the door, brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What are you doing?” He asks flatly. 

“You said you were hungry.” Multi pulls the container of blueberries from the fridge alongside one of the jars with chia seed yogurt. 

He grabs a bowl from one of the cabinets before scooping out a decently sized portion of the yogurt. He then dumps way too many blueberries on top before sticking the spoon in there and walking it over to Mountain. 

He just. Stares at him. Nobody else has ever made him food. Minus his summoning day when Dew and Aether tried to bake him a cake. But still. He is the one who provides. 

“Should I have picked the raspberries instead?” Multi teases, but there is a hint of genuine worry in his voice. 

Mountain shakes his head, “No this is. Fine. Thank you.” 

Multi hums, “Of course. Now I better see that thing scraped clean.” He points at him before going back to the stove. 

Mountain does not necessarily feel hungry, especially after that wave of nausea. But it would be rude to not eat what Multi gave him. So he picks at the blueberries that sit at the top while he watches Multi. 

He moves the pan back onto the burner with heat. He stands with his arms crossed and a spatula in hand, watching the bread toast. Waiting for the right moment to flip it. Mountain is reminded of the first time they made grilled cheese together. Eyes glued to the pan as if looking away would magically ruin it. He is always so careful in the kitchen. So attentive to everything. It is fun to watch, even if Mountain would prefer to bury himself in the earth until he feels normal again right about now. 

Multi finishes the first two slices of French toast, flipping them onto a plate with enough force Mountain is worried they will slide right off and onto the floor. Thankfully they do not. They land heavily on the porcelain with a light thunk. Multi smiles to himself before setting the plate down on the counter for Mountain to inspect. He throws the handful of blueberries he has into his mouth, wiping some of the excess juice on his pajama pants before pulling the plate closer. 

The toast is dark, the crust looking a little burnt. Mountain does not have a fork, so he cuts off a piece with the spoon from his yogurt. He pops it into his mouth and hums. Once past the initial crunch, the inside is. Very soggy. It definitely does not help his churning stomach. But he swallows it nonetheless. 

“Not bad. For the next two, try not to let them soak in the mixture as long.” Mountain pushes the plate back over to him so he has somewhere to put the rest as he makes them. 

“Don’t let them soak for too long, got it.” Multi grabs two more slices of bread and throws them into the bowl with the batter. 

The two sit in a comfortable silence while Multi continues to perfect his French toast making skills. He hums as he works, hips swaying with the rhythm. A rhythm Mountain knows. He is humming one of the songs Mountain showed him when he first came to the greenhouse. Some dad rock song that came over the little beat up radio kept in there by the older earth ghouls. Multi had instantly taken a liking to it, so after their work, he had shown him how to get it on his phone. 

Mountain starts to drum his fingers against the counter alongside Multi’s humming. Even though he is not looking at him, Mountain can see the way the corners of his mouth twitch up. It brings a smile to his own face, even if it is a weak one. 

“Didn’t know we had rehearsal this early in the morning,” an airy voice calls out. 

“Lus!” Multi exclaims, tail wagging. 

“Multi!” She laughs and takes a seat next to Mountain on one of the barstools. 

“Good morning,” he says softly, turning his head to look at her. 

“Morning Mounty.” She smiles brightly at him. 

“Breakfast will be ready soon, so you just sit there and look pretty.” Multi flips the next to two finished pieces onto the plate. 

Cumulus points between herself and Mountain, “Me or him?” 

He grins, “Both.” 

Mountain huffs a laugh, but he stands up from the barstool. He pushes what remains of his blueberries and yogurt towards Cumulus. He knows she will be happy to pick at it and finish it off for him. It also gives her something to snack on while she waits since Mountain was so late this morning. He walks back around the counter in the direction of the fridge. When he passes by Multi, he feels his tail wrap around his calf. Mountain stops and turns to look at him. 

He gives Mountain a look. One that screams at him to go sit back down. He appreciates the concern, he really does, but the rest of the pack is starting to wake. It is one thing when it is just him and Multi, but with Cumulus here too he cannot just sit around and do nothing while Multi finishes up. 

“It’s alright,” Mountain whispers to him, “I’m feeling better now that I ate.” 

It is not a total lie. Eating and watching Multi took his mind off that smell. The nausea has passed. He feels well enough to work. 

Multi does not look entirely convinced, but he does let Mountain go. He forces a smile onto his face to reassure him that everything is fine before walking to the fridge. He opens it up and grabs out the rest of the blueberries and the strawberries. They have an abundance of produce right now. Yesterday was a harvest day. Mountain and Biggs picked through every plant that was ready to give. The majority of their yield gets sent to the Ministry kitchen, but the ghouls are allowed to set aside enough for themselves. Once human and ghoul alike have been fed, the remainder is sold in the nearby town. It makes Mountain happy knowing his hands can feed so many people. 

He takes the two containers and sets them up over at the bar. Cumulus trills when they are placed in front of her. Mountain huffs in amusement, “Save enough for everyone.” 

She stabs a strawberry with one of her talons and pops it into her mouth, “They snooze they lose.” 

“Who’s losing?” A sleep raspy voice comes from the hallway. Cirrus steps in the common area, making her way over to Cumulus. She yawns and buries her face in her hair, shoulders rising as she breathes in her scent. 

“Nobody is losing anything love.” Cumulus affectionately reaches up to pat her arm. With her free hand, she sneaks another strawberry, humming with delight. 

Mountain turns away from them, busying himself with the dishes. He is so happy that those two have finally got used to being with a new pack. Cumulus is fun and sweet and has such a way with words. Cirrus is confident and puts so much of herself into the things she does. They really are great. But he cannot stand to look at them when they are together. Lords Below does it make him feel awful, but he just cannot. They remind him too much of what he had with Dew. Of what he lost. Of what he wants back more than anything. 

What he would not give to get that back. 

He jumps a little when he feels something brush against him, causing water to splash onto the counter. Multi’s tail has wrapped itself around Mountain’s. He looks over his shoulder at him, but all he sees is his back. He is still focused on the French toast. Mountain cannot tell if the touch is intentional or not. Either way, he appreciates it. He turns his attention back to the dishes, curling his tail so that they twine together. 

He rinses out the measuring cups, setting them off to the side to dry. He will have to do the rest when Multi is finished cooking and everyone has made a plate. Without anything more to do, he moves to stand next to him at the stove again. He is careful to not tug on their tangled tails. 

“Just about done. Makin the last couple of slices.” Multi presses the spatula down on a piece of toast. 

“They look good.” 

“I just hope they taste good.” 

“They will.” 

Multi smiles, flipping the toast over. When the bread finally cooks to an even brown, he scoops them up and puts them on the plate with the rest. There are enough for each ghoul to have two. Mountain picks the plate up and sets it down at the bar next to the strawberries and blueberries. Multi brings a stack of plates and utensils for the others to use. Cirrus makes a grumbling noise when Cumulus moves to start fixing herself a plate. 

“I’ll make a pot of coffee.” Mountain turns from them quickly. 

Cirrus mumbles something that sounds like a thank you, but it is muffled by Cumulus’ fluffy hair. 

Mountain steps over to the coffee machine, opening it up to put in a fresh filter and fill up the water. He opens the cabinet right above the machine, eyes scanning over the different flavors. He picks out the bag of dark chocolate grounds, Dew’s favorite. He is not sure whether or not the others will like it, but that does not stop him from scooping out enough to fill up the pot. 

While the machine boils the water, Mountain picks out a mug for Cirrus and Dew. Even though he is not here, Mountain knows he will want a cup. He has been drinking more caffeine ever since the ritual. 

“Would you make one for me too?” Cumulus asks. 

Mountain nods and hums, pulling another mug out. Before he closes the cabinet he looks at Multi. 

“Oh nah. I can’t stand that stuff. Tastes like hot bean water.” Multi wrinkles his nose as he fixes himself a plate. 

“That’s because you don’t know how to make it good,” Cumulus teases. 

“Taste is irrelevant.” Cirrus finally lifts her from Cumulus’ hair and takes the seat next to her. She does not make herself a plate yet, but she does pick from the strawberries on Cumulus’. 

Mountain brings the three mugs over just as the coffee machine clicks, signaling it is finished brewing. The noise makes his ear twitch. He picks up the pot, pouring the steaming liquid into each cup. The scent of dark chocolate and coffee wafts through the air. A pleasant smell, but similar to Multi, Mountain cannot get past the taste. 

With each mug filled, Mountain places the now half filled pot back on the machine. He grabs the milk from the fridge and pours it into Cumulus’ mug until the dark liquid turns into a lighter shade. He then adds just a sprinkle of sugar. He does not add anything to Cirrus’ cup. He picks both of them up, walking them over to where the two are sitting. Cirrus takes hers from his hand, not even blowing on it before taking her first sip. Cumulus hums her thanks when he sets hers down next to her plate. 

Mountain gently pats her shoulder before going back to the mug meant for Dew. He picks up the bag of sugar and begins to pour it into the cup as if it was milk or creamer. Too sweet to stomach. Just the way Dew likes it. 

As Mountain stirs the coffee, the scent of petrichor and sea salt breaks through the rich aroma. He looks up to see Rain shuffling in from the hallway. The muscles in Mountain’s jaw flexes as his stomach tightens. If Rain is out here by himself then Mountain was right to not go into Dew’s room earlier. 

“Morning little fishy,” Multi grins at him. 

Cumulus and Cirrus also greet him. 

“Good morning Rainy.” 

“Morning.” 

Rain just simply hums and nods. 

Even though it has been six months since his summoning, Rain is still quiet around the entire pack. He seems most comfortable with only one or two people around. Or Dew. If Dew is nearby then he looks as content as a cat in a sunbeam. If Rain came out to the kitchen without Dew then today must be bad. He normally tries to make an appearance first thing in the morning. His pain usually worsens through the day until Aether can coax him to sleep with a spark of quintessence. It has been getting better. Less flare ups. Lower doses. But there will always be days like this. 

Mountain wishes there was something he could do. When the pain would take hold of Dew for days, Mountain would run himself ragged creating herbal mixture to soothe him. None of them were ever enough. 

Rain makes his way over to Mountain, head ducked just enough that his hair covers most of his face. When he is close enough, Mountain presses the warm mug into his hands. Rain takes it without hesitation. This is not the first time they have done this dance and it definitely will not be the last. 

“He says he can’t eat,” Rain murmurs. 

“Is he okay?” A stupid question. Mountain knows the answer to that. But he needs to know if he has to go pull Aether from the infirmary or not. 

“We’re steaming up the bathroom right now. He wants to see if it helps.” Rain taps his claws against the porcelain of the mug. 

Mountain nods, “I’ll make him something light. His body needs something to burn.” 

Rain nods in acknowledgment and rests his elbows against the counter. He stares down into the mug. Mountain rests a large hand between his shoulder blades, “You need to eat too.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Rain.” 

He sighs, hanging his head. He is still for a moment before pushing his hair out of his face. He turns to glare at Mountain, but does not say anything more. 

“I’ll make you a bagel,” his voice has a hint of finality in it. No room for an argument. Another step to their dance. 

Rain is too much like himself for his comfort. Like a distorted reflection. Rain is so much like how he was when Mountain was still fresh from the Pits. But the way he puts Dew before even his own needs is too similar to how Mountain is now. Maybe that is the reason Mountain has kept him so close compared to the others, even Multi. He cannot bring himself to focus on his own needs, so he makes sure every single one of Rain’s are met. Maybe if he keeps the weeds from sprouting in Rain’s heart then they will not take root in Mountain’s. 

He grabs the bag of bagels from one of the cabinets. He grabs out two, twisting the end of it shut once more. Mountain adjusts the toaster settings before popping the first one in. While it cooks, he goes to the fridge. He pulls out the cream cheese and a slice of raw salmon. The scent of warm bread wafts through the air as the bagel toasts. When it pops, Mountain instinctively jumps. He grabs the two halves, setting them on an empty plate before putting the other two in. He gives it a moment to cool before spreading the cream cheese and cutting it in half. A plain bagel for Dew. 

He goes through the same process for the other bagel, only this time adding the salmon for Rain. The conversations of the pack act as a pleasant background noise. They keep his mind from drifting to far away places. Once he cuts Rain’s bagel in half, he hands the plate to him. 

“Thank you.” Rain shifts the mug so he can grab both. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Mountain shakes his head, “Just tell Dew I love him.” 

Rain stares at him for a moment. His lips twitch like he wants to say something but apparently he decides against it. He takes the food and Dew’s coffee and turns to leave. 

Mountain follows him with his eyes until he disappears down the hallway. He sighs and rinses off the knife he used to spread the cream cheese in the sink. He has had enough fun for one morning. He is more than ready to head to the greenhouse to get lost in his element until it is time for rehearsal. 

He turns the water off and dries his hands with a nearby rag. He begins to head to his room to get changed, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. He turns to see Multi smiling at him. 

“Any chance I could join you? I wanna work more on what you showed me last time.” 

“Of course. You’re always welcome.” Mountain says it before he can even think about it. Though he does not really need to think about it. Teaching Multi how to tap into his earth magick has become one of his favorite things. 

Multi beams when Mountain says yes. He pats him on the shoulder again, “I’ll go get ready then.” 

Mountain nods and they both walk off. He turns down the right side of the hallway while Multi turns down the left. As Mountain passes by Dew’s door again, he can hear voices. They are too muffled to make out what they are saying though. His hands twitch at his side as he glances at the doorknob. 

One day. One day he will be able to just walk right in like he used to. But today is not that day. 

He continues on to his room, closing the door softly behind him. He takes a moment to slump against the wood. His horns clack against the frame as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a deep sigh. He tries to ground himself. Tries to find his center again. A pair of shears to that unkempt garden. 

But then he groans, scrubs his face with his hands, and pushes off the door. He cannot linger. Multi is waiting for him. It is a good thing Multi is waiting. Otherwise he may have been tempted to throw away the shears and let nature reclaim the garden for good. 

He walks over to his closet, fingers petting against leaves and petals as he goes. He pulls out a sandy canvas button down and a pair of grey cargo pants. His go to for working in the greenhouse. It is rather helpful to have so many pockets. Well that is until Mountain forgets he put something in there and then drives himself crazy looking for it. But still. Helpful. 

He tosses his work clothes onto his bed before pulling his sleep shirt off and tossing it into his laundry basket. He does the same with his flannel pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He gets dressed quickly, tugging on his pants and then the button down before going into his bathroom. He stares at his reflection, playing with the ends of his hair. He really should cut it. But he is always either too tired or too busy. 

Sometime soon though, he tells himself the same thing everyday. 

He grabs a hair tie from the dish on his sink, pulling it back into a loose bun. Something simple just to keep it out of his face while he works. He keeps gaze away from the mirror as he turns and leaves the bathroom. He quickly waters his plants that need it before heading back into the hallway to go find Multi. That ever present nagging of guilt chews at his insides as he walks. Usually he likes to take his time with his plants, check in with each of them. See how they are doing. What they need. But because he woke up too late, he does not have the time. He never seems to have the time anymore. Just another reason to wake up extra early tomorrow. 

He spots Multi waiting where the hallway opens up to the common room. He shifts his weight back and forth on his feet, staring out of a nearby window with a small smile on his face. He looks happy. Content. It chases away that nagging. Shrinks the gaping hole. 

“Ready?” Mountain rumbles when he is close enough. 

He immediately turns around at the sound of his voice, small smile only growing wider, “Course I am. Oh wait. Here.” 

He shoves a brown paper bag into Mountain’s hands, “Made us lunch. It’s nothing crazy, just some pb and j but ya know. So we don’t starve out there.” 

“Oh. Thank you. If you were still hungry though, I could've made you something.” 

“I just said they were for later Mount,” he teases, “consider it my thanks for teaching me a new recipe this morning.” 

“Alright,” Mountain offers him a smile, “Well then if you’re ready we can head out.” 

“After you big guy.” He gestures to the door with one hand. 

Mountain heads toward the door. He waves his goodbye to Cirrus and Cumulus who are still sitting at the barstools. Before leaving, he pauses to grab his leather messenger bag that hangs on the coat rack. While he does that, Multi slips on his boots and crouches down to lace them. Mountain waits patiently for him, adjusting the strap of his bag so it is comfortable on his shoulder. When Multi stands again, he smiles at Mountain and laces their hands together. A touchy ghoul since the day he was summoned. 

Mountain gives his hand a light squeeze and opens the door. The sun is high in the sky, casting shining columns of light through the grand windows of the Ministry. Siblings and ghouls walk through the hallways, murmuring their good mornings as they pass the two on the way to their own duties for the day. Mountain simply nods with a smile while Multi greets every one of them. 

When they are not passing by the other inhabitants of the Ministry, they walk in a comfortable silence. Mountain is always reminded of Dewdrop when they walk together. Just like him, Multi can talk for hours on end but then be perfectly content without making a noise. Like some kind of switch has been flipped. Dew only gets silent around humans he does not know. It makes him wonder what causes Multi to go quiet. 

They eventually reach the door that connects the greenhouse to the Ministry. It is on a more remote side. Far from the chapel and the den. Mountain does not mind it though. There is something nice about being able to see the sun rising through the windows, painting the ancient stone architecture pink. Though it is not like he has seen it recently. Not with his habit of lingering under his sheets. 

“I swear that walk gets longer every single time,” Multi huffs with a smile. 

“Well you don’t have to make it if you don’t want to.” Mountain pushes the door open, holding it for Multi. 

He steps inside, “What? And miss out on quality dirt boy time?” 

Mountain hums a laugh and follows in after him. The moment his hooves make contact with the dirt floor he pauses. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, breathing in the musky, earthy scent. The tension in him seems to melt away as he is enveloped in his element. He scuffs his hooves, digging them deeper into the dirt. He can feel the hum of the earth. The vibration of life. It greets him warmly, arms wide open to welcome home. The temptation to take root is strong, but he cannot. He has work to do. Ghouls to look after. 

He opens his eyes and starts walking to his work bench, Multi tailing after him. He sets the paper bag with his lunch in it on the nearby shelf so it does not get in the way. He picks up his apron, unfolding it and shaking out some of the excess streaks of dirt from yesterday's work. It does not really do much. The material has long since stained. No amount of washing will ever get it all the way out. 

He puts it on, tying the strings comfortably around his waist. Multi has already grabbed one of the spares that hang on the wall by the sink. He crosses the strings behind his back before bringing them to the front to tie. Once that is situated, Mountain pulls out a pair of gloves and tosses them to Multi. Mountain never uses them. He prefers to feel everything that is around him. Sometimes he ends the day by picking thorns from his palms, but it is worth knowing that the roses wanted more sunlight. 

Multi slips the gloves onto his hands, flexing his fingers as he walks back over to Mountain, “So what’s the plan?” 

“Harvest the vegetables.” Mountain hands him a basket. 

He raises an eyebrow, “Thought you said yesterday was harvest day?” 

“It was. Biggs and I picked all the berries, but there’s a lot more that still needs to be done.” 

“Riiight. So I just,” he makes a nonsensical gesture with his hands, “pull shit from the ground?” 

Mountain huffs a laugh, “More or less. I’ll show you.” 

He leads Multi over to where the vegetable rows are. He figures starting with the tomatoes and peppers will be easier than the carrots or potatoes. He brings him to the towering vines, light reds and oranges peeking through the green foliage. Water droplets glisten off the flesh, making them shine. Mountain palms one of the larger tomatoes, giving it a light squeeze. The fruit gives a little before slowly bouncing back into shape. Definitely ready for harvest. 

He nods his head, motioning for Multi to come closer. He awkwardly shuffles over, shoulder pressing against Mountain’s as he looks down at the tomato in his hand. 

“You see how it’s a kind of pinky color?” Mountain asks in a hushed tone. It always feels right to keep his voice low on harvest days. 

“That’s orange. Maybe yellow.” Multi raises an eyebrow at him. 

Mountains chuckles, “It’s just a term. When they’re like this they’re called pink or blushing since they’re getting closer to red.”

“Uhhuh…”

“It means they’re ready to be picked.” He pinches the vines between thumb and forefinger as close as he can get to the tomato. He twists and pulls with expert force, pulling it free from the plant in one smooth motion. He places it in his own basket down by his hooves. 

Multi blinks at him before turning his attention to the plant Mountain pulled from. He grabs one of the tomatoes that have a similar color. He mimics Mountain, giving it a squeeze even though he is not quite sure what he is looking for. Mountain watches though, humming in approval. 

“That’s a good one,” he says gently, “be careful when you pull it. Try to get as close to the body as possible. We don’t want to hurt the vines.” 

Multi hesitates to pluck it from the plant. He tries to keep his normal face of confidence, but Mountain can tell by the flick of his ears that he is nervous. For what, he has no idea but Mountain does not care. He can take this as slow as he needs. 

Mountain reaches into the basket he handed Multi. He pulls out a pair of shears, “Here. It’ll be easier if you use these.” 

Multi takes them from him, turning them over in his hand, “Thanks. So where do I…?” 

He traces his claw at the perfect spot for Multi to cut, “You don’t want to take too much of the vine with you.” 

He nods and snips the shears in the same place Mountain pointed out. The leaves rustle as the tomato breaks free from the vine and it snaps back into place without the excess weight. Mountain pats him on the shoulder with a smile, “That was good.” 

Multi beams at the praise, shadows of his nerves melting away. He places it in the basket Mountain had handed to him, “That’s all there is to it?” 

Mountain hums and nods, “Yup. Well. Now that you know what you’re doing, how about you do these and I’ll take care of the peppers?” 

“You want me. To do it by myself?” 

Mountain nods again. 

“But what if I fuck something up? I don’t wanna ruin your plants.” 

“You won’t,” Mountain shrugs, “but if it really worries you, try to listen to them with your magick. They’ll tell you everything they need.” 

Multi still looks unconvinced, but he does not protest. Mountain quickly knocks their horns together before standing, grabbing his own basket, and heading over to the rows with the peppers. 

Normally Mountain would not dare let anyone who is not an earth ghoul near the produce. It is too important, feeds too many people, for him to feel comfortable with it. But he is confident in what Multi can do. He is keen on learning and understanding everything shown to him. His earth magick is already so much stronger than what it was six months ago. Mountain does not think there is anyone else he would rather have helping him. 

Well. 

Except one. 

Dew used to come out here to help. Back when they were both so new to it all. Back when Mountain was still finding his own footing as one of the greenhouse earth ghouls. Dew used to come out here to find him. Spend time with him. When Mountain got overwhelmed, he would be there to help him go through the rows to water everything. He always had such a gentle touch, hyper aware that Mountain had a connection to the plants. Like taking care of them somehow would make adjusting to the Topside easier on him. 

Mountain cannot remember the last time Dew came to the greenhouse. It was before the ritual that is for sure. He still gets a regular visitor in the form of Multi, but. He misses the scent of spring water and wet moss. 

He startles when he feels something slither around his pointer and ring fingers. He looks down to see one of the vines of the green pepper plant wrapping around him. He blinks at it before thumbing over the leaf. Gently. Soothingly. Guess that is his queue to get to work. 

His body works almost automatically at this point, pinching and pulling the peppers from their vines and placing them in his basket. He occasionally lifts his head to steal a glance at Multi. He is so focused, eyebrows pulled together in a little furrow. Far behind Mountain in the rows too, taking his time with each and every tomato. It makes Mountain smile, watching him be so careful with the plants he cares so deeply about. 

He always is. It makes Mountain wonder how his earth magick is barely present. It seems so natural to him. Though he supposes he knows nothing about multi ghouls. How their mix of all the elements works. That and Multi is mostly quint and fire. Probably means he lived somewhere without much green Down Below. But he could be wrong. Mountain does not know. Nobody does really. Multi has yet to utter a single word about his time in the Pits. He understands, it is not always a kind place. But it does make him wonder. 

The next time Mountain raises his head to glance at him, he catches Multi’s eye. Mountain immediately ducks his head again, staring at the group of peppers he is working on. 

“Caught you staring Mountain,” he teases, dragging out his name. 

“Not staring. I was just checking on you.” He has the urge to stomp on his tail to stop it from flicking. 

“More like checking me out,” Multi laughs. 

Mountain snuffles, pulling another pepper off its vine and into his basket. They are silent for a few moments before Multi speaks again. 

“But uh seriously now. Am I. Doin okay?” All the bravado gone from his voice. 

It amazes Mountain how quickly he switches between bold and confident to soft sincerity. And it makes his head spin just a bit. He thinks he knows who the real Multi is, but he is never quite sure. 

Mountain lifts head again to smile at him, “You’re doing just fine.” 

His eyes seem to light up again, corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin, “Just fine?” 

Mountain rolls his eyes, stepping over to the next row of peppers. They go back to working in a comfortable silence. The rustling of leaves as they harvest the produce is the only sound filling the space. Occasionally they can hear a bird chirp or some Siblings shouting from somewhere outside. The sun is at Her highest point now, bathing the greenhouse in Her rays. It is warm, but not unpleasantly so. At least, not yet anyway. Though Mountain starts to wish his winter coat would finish shedding. It is already late spring and he still has thick tufts all over his body. 

Multi’s hums begin to join in with the bird songs the longer they go. They are all nonsensical, not a single tune Mountain recognizes. Simply just whatever rhythm lives in his head. But then it slowly morphs into something he does know. Quite well actually. One of the Cardinal’s songs, Rats. The one they have been drilling over and over again in all of their recent rehearsals. 

Mountain’s tail starts to thump back and forth with the beat, instinctively keeping time even when he is not behind his kit. He bobs his head too as his mind fills in the lyrics. 

“Rats,” Multi mutters before sticking his head up to look at Mountain, “What the fuck is a rat anyways?” 

“Did you ever see a diabolus mus Down Below?” 

“Course. Fuckers were everywhere.” 

“Rats are like that. But a lot smaller and without all the spikes and fire.” 

“Huh. Gross.” 

Mountain huffs a laugh and steps around to the next row. They continue to work, conversation sparking up every so often. Mountain finishes harvesting all of the peppers before Multi is done with the tomatoes. He sets his baskets off to the side, grabbing an empty one to help him. By the time both of their baskets are full, they are sweaty and hungry. 

They each gather their harvest and bring it over to the largest workbench in the back corner of the greenhouse. Luckily they do not have to do the sorting, that job is reserved for Biggs. Instead, they wash their hands and shuffle back over to Mountain’s workbench where their lunches await. Mountain offers the stool for Multi, but he refuses. He insists Mountain sit at his own seat. After a never ending back and forth, Mountain relents and pulls the stool out. Multi grins happily and plops himself down on the nearby bags of soil. 

“Thank you again for making this,” Mountain says as he opens the paper bag. 

“Mount it’s a sandwich and two oranges. It’s not like I made you a five course meal,” Multi laughs. 

“And I appreciate it,” he says simply. 

Multi pulls one of his oranges from his bag, “Well I’m glad.” 

He stabs his claw into it with more force than necessary for peeling a fruit. Juice squirts out, dribbling down his arm and onto his pants. He hisses, shaking his hand and flinging stray droplets everywhere in a futile attempt to get the stickiness off of him. Mountain sets his still wrapped sandwich down, leaning forward and holding out his hand. He motions for Multi to give it to him. He does so, standing to go wash his hands once Mountain takes it. 

“Still not used to how soft everything is Topside,” he throws over his shoulder from the sink. 

Mountain hums in acknowledgment as he slides his own claw into the puncture Multi made. He gets the peel under tip before slowly turning the orange in his hand. The skin follows easily, peeling off in one perfect spiral. 

“How do you do that so good?” Multi cocks his with a smile as he walks back over. 

“Don’t know. Lots of practice I suppose.” He picks off some stray pieces of the peel before handing the now naked fruit back to Multi. 

He sinks his fangs into it, tearing half of the flesh off in one bite. Juice drips down his chin as a rumbly little purr kicks up in his chest. Mountain just smiles and begins to peel his own orange. He gathers all of the skin in a pile to dry later before picking out pieces of the fruit one at a time. 

Conversation carries easily between them as they finish their lunches. Mountain gathers their trash and tosses it away into one of the bins near the main entrance of the greenhouse. He rolls his shoulders as he walks back over to where Multi is sitting, stretching the stiff muscles and popping his joints. His tail wags as Mountain reappears. 

“Back to harvesting I presume?” Multi stands up, ready to grab another basket. 

Mountain hums, “No. figured we could work on your magick.” 

“Oh thank the Lords Below. My back was starting to kill me. Not that I didn’t enjoy it but well.” He shrugs and smiles. 

Mountain just goes back to his work bench, clearing off as much room as he possibly can, “Go on then.” 

Multi gives him a pat on the back before dashing off to the corner they keep his mini pots at. Mountain has been teaching him to feel the earth the way he does. Hear Her song. Her voice. If he can do that then the rest will come easily. He has been doing this by giving him some spare seeds. Something to grow all on his own so he can tune into the whispers of the plants. Progress has been slow, but still, Mountain can see him improving every single time they do this. 

He returns, four mini pots clutched to his chest and a blinding grin on his face. He sets them down carefully and looks at them with pride. Each of them has the smallest dot of green beginning to push through the dirt. 

“Which do you want to work with this time?” Mountain cannot help but trail his fingers over the lip of the terracotta, dipping his claw into the soil. Listening. 

“Sheryl.” 

“Sheryl?” 

“Yeah Sheryl.” Multi points to the pot marked mint. 

Mountain has no idea when he decided to give them names, but it makes him smile, “Sheryl it is.” 

He pulls the mint pot forward, setting it between the two of them. He gives it a quick once over with his own magick, making sure it is in the right condition before letting Multi practice. 

“Remember what I told you last time?” He nudges it closer to him.

Multi nods, voice suddenly quiet, “Listen for their voice because they’ll tell me what I need to do.” 

“Good,” he praises, “try helping her grow.”

His lips pull together in a thin line as he turns his attention from Mountain to the pot. He reaches forward and grabs it, bringing it close to him. He stares at it, thumb rubbing up and down the smooth terracotta. It feels like an eternity of Multi just staring at the plant. Mountain does not rush him though. The earth requires patience. 

Multi chews his lip, “How do you do it? Make them grow?” 

“I told you. Listen to them,” he speaks in a hushed tone. 

“But what does that mean Mount? They don’t have voices, all I can hear is sounds.” 

Mountain hums in thought, “You’ve used your quintessence to heal before yes?” 

He nods. 

“Well it’s like that,” Mountain grabs some stray seeds scattered on the workbench, “You have to connect yourself to them. Find the part of them that needs nurturing and pour yourself into it. You become the thing that gives them life. Give it to them with a gentle hand.” 

He squeezes his hand shut. His eyes seem to shine a beautiful green as the scent of pine and freshly churned dirt fills the air. When Mountain opens his hand again, a white carnation rests in his palm. Multi delicately picks it up, brushing his thumb through the petals before tucking it behind his ear. 

“I don’t think I can do that,” he admits. 

“You can.” 

He stares back down at the mint pot. Mountain can see the gears turning in his head, lip still pulled between his fang. He finally relents, taking a deep breath and bringing the pot close to his face. Multi closes his eyes, letting his fingers dip into the moist dirt. He begins mumbling to himself, but Mountain tries to tune it out. Whatever words he speaks now are not for him. They are meant for the earth. 

He can feel it when it happens, Multi’s earth element sparking to life. It smells herbaceous and sits thickly on his tongue. Mountain locks his eyes onto the ring sprout of the mint plant, watching for any signs of change. For a moment nothing happens. But then very slowly, the green begins to grow. The little sprig grows taller and taller as more leaves begin to shoot from the stem. Soon another branch pushes its way from the dirt. Then another and another. It is growing quickly. 

A little too quickly. 

“Multi.” Mountain calls his attention back. 

The moment he says his name, the growing stops. Multi cracks his eyes open, the normal black and white overtaken by a deep forest green as his earth still flows through him. 

“Did I fuck up?” 

“Well I wouldn’t say that.” Mountain motions with his head to look. 

He now completely opens his eyes to see the nearly fully grown mint plant. His expression immediately lifts, eyes shining as his lips pull up into a beaming smile. His tail starts to wag rapidly behind him, “I did that?” 

“I knew you could.” 

Multi laughs and raises his pot into the air, “I made a fucking plant grow! I actually did it!” 

Mountain laughs with him, but it quickly dies in his throat. That look in his eye. So much like Dewdrop. It teleports him back to the first time he came to help Mountain water the flowers. He looked so pleased that he was actually able to conjure a water bubble. He was so happy that he could actually help. 

A lifetime ago. 

“Mount?” 

He shakes his head, turning his eyes back to Multi with a hum. 

“You good? You spaced out there.” Multi raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes, sorry. I was just. Thinking about how we should move Sheryl to a bigger pot.” 

“Oh. Yeah I guess that makes sense. Have any laying around?” 

Mountain stands from his stool and walks over to the sink area. Usually they did have some extras, though with it being late in the season he is not quite sure if they will have anything bigger. And he just needed to get away. He liked Multi he really does and he is beyond proud of him, but that look. It just makes him hurt knowing Dew will probably never show him that look ever again. Multi does not deserve to have his happiness crushed because of Mountain. He cannot do that to another ghoul. 

He locates another pot after taking a moment to breathe. It is not that much bigger than the mint’s current one, but it will do for now. Until something else can be moved into the garden. He takes it back over to Multi who smiles when he sees him again. 

“Do you want me to do it or do you remember from last time?” Mountain sets it down between them. 

“Nah I got it. She’s mine, I should take care of her.” Multi looks at the soil selection on the workbench. 

Mountain waits to see if he remembers what kind best suits mint. His hand hovers over something that holds a lot of water and he makes a noise in the back of his throat. 

“Maybe a different one.” 

“Right right. I was just testing you.” Multi’s eyes scan over the selection again before landing on a good one this time. Though before he picks it up, he glances at Mountain. He nods and Multi grins. 

He opens the bag and begins to scoop dirt out with his bare hands. Mountain watches him for a little before that voice in the back of his head creeps in. Whispers to him. Makes his jaw clench so hard his teeth hurt. This is not fair to Multi. 

He stands abruptly, “While you work on that I’m going to finish harvesting. If you need help I’ll be in the potatoes.” 

“Oh. Uh. Yeah okay. I’ll come over when I’m done.” He barely gets the words out before Mountain has turned around in the direction of the vegetable rows. 

What is wrong with him? He is supposed to care for these ghouls and he cannot even look at Multi’s face without his chest aching. He needs to be better than this. 

Maybe some time alone in his element will clear his head. Let Her take it away from him. At least, that is what he begs for when he sinks his claws into the dirt to pull at the potatoes. 

Mountain gets about halfway through the rows when Multi joins him again. He does not say anything, neither of them do. Mountain is focused on each plant that he barely notices when he first approaches. The silence is not the same as before. It hangs in the air as they work side by side. It is not until the Ministry’s bell rings that Mountain realizes how much time has passed. 

He stands from where he was kneeling with a groan, brushing dirt off his apron. The sun is beginning to sink lower in the sky, not quite setting but enough to make the blue of the sky darker. When the bell stops ringing, Mountain cracks his back. It is time for rehearsal. 

He steps over to where Multi is crouched a few rows from his. He does not look up at him until Mountain extends his hand. He blinks, glancing between Mountain’s face and his hand before deciding to take it. He hauls him, patting him between the shoulder blades. 

“Thank you for your help today.” Mountain gives his hand a squeeze. 

The corner of Multi’s mouth twitches up into a smile. It only makes Mountain feel worse. 

“It was all my pleasure and I’ll happily do it again. Dirt boy.” 

Mountain offers him his best smile at the nickname. It does make a small part of him feel better though. It does not seem like he totally ruined Multi’s day. 

“Alright come on now,” Mountain tugs at his hand, “we can’t be late to rehearsal.” 

Multi waves his hand, “Ah what’s a few minutes, Cardi won’t care.” 

Despite his words, Multi does walk off with Mountain. The pair cleans up as best they can, washing their hands and putting their aprons back on the hooks. Mountain is definitely worse for wear, dirt smeared on the sleeves of his shirt and the bottom of his pants. It does not bother him though. He really only notices it when Multi points it out by trying to brush it off. 

Mountain does not let him fuss over it though, stepping away towards the main doors. Multi jogs after him, flicking his tail against Mountain’s when they are side by side. He hesitates for just a moment before flicking his in return, giving his permission. Multi immediately takes it, twining their tails together. 

The halls are much more alive than what they were this morning. Siblings and ghouls bustling through. Finishing their chores and heading back to their dorms to change for dinner. None of them greet the pair this time, too caught up in their own conversations. It does not bother Mountain though. He is happy to fade to the background as they make their way to the practice room. Multi still offers every one of them a wave or a smile. 

The journey to the rehearsal room is much shorter than the one they took this morning. The crowd thins as they get closer, as stone and marble turn to wood and metal. This part of the Ministry was added much later, a renovation when the Clergy first created the Ghost Project. Stuck at the back of the building so as not to break up the flow. A pair of metal doors painted black is the only thing separating the rest of the inhabitants from the work they do. The music they create. 

Mountain pushes those doors open, holding them so Multi can enter first. It is a stark contrast to the greenhouse. Bright fluorescent lighting and blasts of cold air. The floor is carpeted with a few odd stains dotted around. A mock stage, if it can even be called that, takes up most of the space. 

The Cardinal looks up from where he is talking to Cirrus and Cumulus. He smiles and waves at them. Mountain is a bit surprised to see they are not the first ones here. The Cardinal is a given, he is always punctual, but usually Mountain is the first ghoul to be present. He should have paid better attention to the time. Tomorrow, he can fix his schedule tomorrow. 

“Mountain, Multi! It is ehh good to see you!” the Cardinal greets as they step further into the room.  

“Cardi. Ladies.” Multi grins at them. He walks closer to them, opening his arms for a hug. Cumulus is quick to dodge him with an indignant squawk. 

“Don’t you dare touch me! You stink!” The feathers on her neck poof up, but there is a smile on her face. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. C’mooon Lussy c’mere!” Multi swipes at her, trying to wrap her in his arms. 

She laughs and jumps away again, “Absolutely not!” 

They stare at each other for a moment. Multi’s tail whips back and forth, like a cat who caught a glimpse of a bird in a window. Cumulus’ feathered tail splays out behind her. As if they could read each other’s minds, she darts off at the exact same moment he tries to pounce on her. Their laughter fills the practice room as he chases her around the space. 

The Cardinal watches them nervously, wringing his hands. Mountain can tell just by the look on his face that he does not know if he should stop them or not. He glances at Cirrus every so often, trying to gauge her reaction. She is watching them as well, eyes glued to Multi. The fact that she does not seem like she is going to intervene seems to keep him quiet. 

Mountain crosses the rest of the distance to stand with them, The Cardinal gives him a lopsided smile, “I hope the ehh planting was well for you today.” 

“We finished harvesting most of the vegetables,” Mountain says simply. He is still not quite sure how he feels about the Cardinal. He seems mousy but he acts high and mighty whenever the Clergy is around. A complete opposite of Terzo. Not that Mountain really got to know Terzo before he was dethroned. But he was the man who summoned him. By nature he has a loyalty to him. 

“Good good. Well ehh keep up the great work!” He nudges Mountain lightly on the arm. 

“Speaking of work…” Cirrus chimes in. Her hand darts out the next time Multi and Cumulus run past them, scruffing him by the back of the neck causing him to yelp. 

“…shouldn’t we get started?” 

“Aw come on Cir, we’re still missing like half of our damn band.” He tries in vain to wiggle free from her iron grip. 

“I would love to leoncina, but Multi does make a good point.” He toys with his fingers as he speaks. 

Rain, Aether, and Dew are the only ones missing. It makes Mountain’s stomach churn. He knows Dew is struggling today if his absence at breakfast is anything to go off of. This would not be the first time he has missed a rehearsal because of it, but the other two not being here. It makes him only think of the worst. What if Dew is being rushed to infirmary right now and Mountain is not there with him? What if he is already at the infirmary and Aether nor Omega can help him? 

What if? What if? What if? 

As if they could hear his thoughts, the door to the practice room swings open only a minute later. Aether enters first, a smile on his face despite the dark circles under his eyes. Rain follows in after him, expressionless as ever. To Mountain’s surprise, Dew brings up the rear. He looks small. Of course he is not the largest ghoul, but he always carries himself in a way that makes him seem bigger. But right now he is slouched over with his arms wrapped around his middle. There is a furrow between his brow and scowl on his face. Mountain does not know if it is from anger or pain. 

Both seems like a good guess though. 

“Ah there you are my ghouls!” Copia spreads his arms, gesturing with his hands. “I was wondering where—“ 

“Let’s just get started.” Dew grits out as he stomps over to the guitar rack. 

“Eh hehhhh right. Yes. Let’s.” The Cardinal deflates a little before shuffling over to the podium to get his papers in order. 

As the ghouls begin to get set up for rehearsal, Mountain makes his way over to Aether. He taps him on the shoulder, dragging his attention away from where he had begun to pull out his guitar. 

“What do ya need Mount?” He looks up at him, smile still on his face. 

“Is he okay?” He keeps his voice low so Dew will not hear him. 

Aether’s smile falters for only a moment before it is back, “It’s his joints. Rain brought him down just before rehearsal to get some quint. Couldn’t give him much though because he had a treatment yesterday. That’s why he looks so grumpy.” 

“Should he even be here then?” 

“Do you wanna tell him to go sit and do nothing?” 

Aether sighs, eyes dropping to the floor, “I tried Mount. Believe me I did. But he wouldn’t listen.” 

Of course he did not. Stubborn as always. More so now that fire courses through his veins. Dew will not rest until his body gives out on him. But it makes Mountain worry. He still needs to heal. He still needs to take it easy while he adjusts to his new element. So much could still happen to him. Delta did not succumb to the void right away after all. Nobody knows what lies in store for Dew. 

“I know. I believe you. I just want him to be okay.” 

“We all do.” Aether rests a hand on Mountain’s arm. He pulls him down and Mountain goes easily. Aether presses a quick kiss to his lips when their faces are level. 

“It’ll all work out sapling. Now go get ready so we can rock out.” Another kiss and then Aether pats his cheek before letting him go. 

Mountain bumps their horns together and then leaves him to go get ready. He tries to focus on Aether’s optimism. Take it at face value. But he knows him too well. It is not optimism. It is desperation. He could almost hear the it has to as he spoke to him. But if he can lie to himself, convince himself Aether really is confident everything will be okay, then maybe it will come true. Anything to get the pit inside of him to be filled. 

As he goes to his drum kit, he passes by Multi’s mock platform. He sits cross legged in the center with his guitar in his lap, tail swiping back and forth as he tunes. He pauses only to lift his head and wave at Mountain as he goes by. He waves back only with much less enthusiasm than Multi. It is like his body is running on autopilot as his gaze keeps finding its way across the room. To Dewdrop.

 He cannot hear him from here, but he can see the way his lips curl up in a snarl at something Rain says. Dew immediately hangs his head though. Should he go over there? Try to talk to him? Convince him to rest? But would Dew even care? If Aether could not get through to him, then Mountain certainly will not. Maybe in a different time, a different life, one where there is not a stain on their hearts. But not this one. 

“Hey Mountain!” Multi calls. 

He lifts his head and stares at him, eyes wide. 

“Pass me the tuner will you?” 

He nods and digs through the cabinet that is right behind his kit. All of the excess electronics are kept here. Spare mics, tuners, in ear monitors. Alongside Mountain’s spare sticks.

He grabs the little grey box and tosses it over to Multi. He beams brightly in return, chirping a loud thank you. Mountain is not even sure why he wants it. He is confident in saying Multi probably has perfect pitch. He has watched him during rehearsal enough times to guess as much. He is probably wrong though. All he has been is wrong lately. 

He grabs a monitor from the cabinet and a pair of sticks before sitting himself down behind his kit. He places his things onto the ground, freeing up his hands to stretch. He cracks his knuckles before sticking his arm out with his palm out and fingers pointing up. He wraps his other hand around his fingers and pulls back just until he feels the muscles in his wrist and forearm grow taut. He holds for a moment before repeating the stretch on the opposite hand. 

As he does this, the room becomes abuzz with disjointed notes. Plucks of strings and vocal warm ups and squeals of keys. Mountain soon joins in, tapping his way through his scales. 

“Alright my ghouls!” Copia speaks through his mic, “Let us pick up where we left off last time with ehh Dance.” 

Everyone gets into their places as Mountain puts in his monitor. He sets the metronome to the proper speed, tail flicking with each tick. He has each song memorized by heart at this point. A result of long hours spent practicing when his mind would wander too far in the dead of night. He could probably get by without the metronome at this point, but still he uses it. He has to make sure he is right on time so that the others can follow. 

“Mountain. Whenever you are ready.” The Cardinal gives him a nod. 

Mountain returns the gesture, tapping his hoof against the floor to find the beat. When he gets it, he shifts to press against the pedal of the bass drum. Dew’s guitar joins in two counts behind where it normally should. The notes sound shaky at first, like he is not quite pressing down on the strings hard enough. Mountain has to resist the urge to look at him. If he does he knows he will see pain etched onto his face, there is no other reason Dewdrop would not be perfect. It will throw his focus. He needs to stay focused so they can get through this rehearsal. 

Despite the unsteady beginning, the rest of the ghouls quickly find the rhythm. Aether and Rain join in at the proper counts as do Cirrus and Cumulus. The Cardinal stands center stage, watching all of them play as he nods his head to the beat. This is how they always start, with the song they finished with last time. One run without vocals to warm up and then another with Copia joining in. 

They have been working on Dance Macabre for a while now. Once they settled on their opener, the Cardinal insisted they move onto one of their closers. Something along the lines of starting strong and finishing stronger. 

They get through the first run fine. No hiccups minus a few wrong notes from Aether near the end. The Cardinal praises them, applauding as the room goes silent again. 

“Molto bene! Let’s ehh see if we can improve.” He points at Mountain, giving him the go ahead. 

They start again, only this time Copia’s voice joins the mix. He wanders the mock stage as he sings, going through the blocking he has in his head. He drifts a little too close to Dew though. Mountain can hear the faintest hiss catch on the microphone. He grits his teeth and slams his stick down on the cymbal with more force than really necessary. 

Get through rehearsal. Just get through rehearsal and then he can rest again. Stay focused. 

They wrap up Dance with no bumps this time. The Cardinal finally must feel satisfied with it because he does not have them run it again. Once again, praise falls from his lips when the last note rings through the air. He keeps babbling on as he shuffles over to the podium where all his papers are. He sifts through them, mumbling to himself as he decides what to do next. 

Without the music, the urge is too great to resist. Mountain glances over in Dew’s direction. He is looking down at his hand as he opens and closes his fist, flexing his fingers. Mountain can see the way they shake from his platform. Clearly he is not the only one who sees it too as Aether wanders over to Dew. Aether takes his hand in his, bringing it up to his lips. Mountain’s nose twitches at the pop of ozone in the air, gone just as quickly as it came. He watches as Dew’s shoulders sag ever so slightly in relief. 

All he can do is watch. That is all he can ever do. Watch. He longs to do more yet the claws of guilt keep him pinned in place. Dew would have every right to turn him away but Mountain fears if he does, the weeds will over take the garden. 

Thankfully though, before Mountain can contemplate any longer, the Cardinal pulls them back together. He decides they will work through the first three songs of the planned act one setlist. Mountain adjusts his metronome, grips his sticks, and waits for the Cardinal’s direction. 

It all goes fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Rain nearly tripping over a cord, Aether falling out of time, the Cardinal forgetting his own lyrics. But they still manage to work through their problem spots. Though during all of this, the room has gotten noticeably hotter. The temperature seems to spike every time Dew’s fingers slip from the fretboard. Mountain is used to being drenched in sweat during a good rehearsal though so he works through it. 

It all comes crashing down though. The Cardinal wanders too close to Mountain’s mock platform. A sharp squeal pierces his ears, feedback from the microphone and his hearing aids. It makes his heart pound in his chest. The sound of splintering wood replaces the snare and cymbals as he grips his sticks so hard they snap in two. 

Not this again. Please not this again. 

All he can see is the look of horror on Aether’s face as he pounds on Dew’s chest. All he can hear is the screeching heart monitor. All he can feel is fear of not knowing if this is it. If this is the end. 

It cannot be the end. It just cannot. He has to come back. He has to so Mountain can apologize to him. So he can love him again. He has to stay with them. He cannot survive without him. Dew cannot be dead. 

Dew is dead. 

Dew is dead. 

Dew is dead. 

Dew is—

“Mountain!” 

He jumps, head snapping up at the call of his name. All eyes are on him as he slowly looks around the room, getting his bearings. His eyes catch Dewdrop’s. Even his scowl is gone, replaced with concern. Mountain quickly averts his gaze. 

“Mountain? Cerbiatto, are you well?” It is the Cardinal’s voice that pulls him more and more into the present. 

“What?” 

“Are you well?” 

Not at all. He can still see the infirmary room when he closes his eyes. But the others do not need to know that. 

He shakes his head, “Yeah. I’m fine.” 

“Are you ehh sure?” The Cardinal glances down at the broken sticks he is still clutching. 

Mountain follows his gaze, blinking down at where the top half of them sits on the floor. He did not even realize. He quickly sets the bottom ends on his snare, being careful to shield his shaking hands as best he can. 

“Yes I’m sure. I guess I just got too into it.” 

“Yeah. You must have. Considering you didn’t respond to the Cardinal when he called for you.” Cirrus narrows her eyes and tilts her head. 

“I did.” 

“After the third time maybe.” 

He looks away from her too, opting to just stare at his broken sticks instead of anyone else. The silence hangs heavy in the air. So quiet he is painfully aware of his own deep breaths and beating heart. 

Finally it is broken by the Cardinal clearing his throat, “Well ehh I think we should call it there for today.” 

“Really I’m fine—“ 

“It is okay cerbiatto. You all worked very hard today and I am very proud of you. Go enjoy the rest of your evening.” He gives him a lopsided smile. 

They stare at each other for just a moment longer before Copia turns and saunters down the mock platform to the podium. Everyone else is hesitant, but as he begins to pack up his papers they start to move. Mountain stays glued to his seat though, staring at the splinters in his hand. 

“Should probably get Aeth to take em out.” Multi shuffles over to Mountain. He does not get close though, giving him any space he may need. 

Mountain swallows thickly, “Yeah. Probably.” 

His body feels like it moves on autopilot as he slowly stands and makes his way down to Aether. He is only vaguely aware of Multi following after him. Everything feels so fuzzy.

Aether crosses the rest of the distance between them, quickly meeting him, “Mount what happened up there?” 

“Broke my sticks.” He holds his splintered hand out to him. He takes it with a huffed laugh. 

“Well yes I saw that part. But why?” 

Mountain does not say anything. He does not need to. He knows the moment Aether touched his skin his quintessence told him everything Mountain is feeling right now. 

Aether just sighs and begins to examine where the splinter is, “We’re talking about this later.” 

Mountain opens his mouth but is caught off by a spark of quint coursing through his body. Something gentle and sweet yet wholly overwhelming. 

“Don’t you dare say you’re fine. I know you better than that mister Mountain ghoul.” Aether is able to pull it out with the tips of his claws as his quint soothes the pain. He kisses the spot where it was. 

“Okay?” He mumbles against his palm. 

Mountain hesitates before responding, “Okay.” 

Aether smiles, “Okay. You and me then. After dinner.” 

“After?” 

“I have to go back to the infirmary. It’s swamped right now. Siblings and their allergies.” He gives him an apologetic look, but he still smiles. He then stands up straighter and points past Mountain. 

“You. Make sure he doesn’t break anything else until I get back.” 

“As you wish.” Multi now steps closer to them. 

Mountain looks down at him before turning back towards Aether, “I’ll make your favorite tonight.” 

“Well then, now I have something to look forward to,” he kisses Mountain’s hand again, “I’ll see you soon sprout.” 

With that, Aether takes one last look at him and then over to where Dew and Rain are before heading out of the door. Before he even has time to dwell on the fact that he definitely ruined rehearsal, Multi’s hand slips into his with a squeeze. When Mountain looks at him, he just smiles. 

“Come on Mounty. We gotta shower before dinner, we stink.” 

He does not  say anything as he lets Multi lead him out of the practice room and into the hallway. He does not say anything the entire walk back to the den. He does not say anything when they enter through the ornate wooden doors to see Ifrit and Zephyr lounging together on the couch. He does not say anything as Multi pulls him to his room. 

All day he has told himself tomorrow will be different. He will fix everything tomorrow. But how can he do that now? After causing a scene at rehearsal? The way they all looked at him with pity and concern. Even Dewdrop despite being the one suffering the most right now. How could he do that? How could he let his pack catch even a glimpse of an unkempt garden when he is supposed to be taking care of it? He is supposed to be their foundation. He cannot crumble. He is not allowed to. Because if he does then what stops the others from falling into nothing? 

“Did you hear me?” Multi tilts his head. 

“Hm?” 

“I asked if you want me to stay. With you. Help you wash up.”

“No.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” 

Multi looks like he wants to say more. Argue, push back and convince Mountain to let him stay. But he does not. He just nods and pulls him into a quick hug. Mountain’s limbs feel too heavy to reciprocate. 

“Just holler if you change your mind.” Multi pulls back, stares at him for a moment longer, and then slips out of Mountain’s door. 

Without anyone around to see, Mountain finally crumbles. He sinks to the floor next to his bed, forehead pressed to the cool wood. He digs his claws into his hair as the events of the day play over and over again. He wants to scream. His throat burns from the effort to hold back his cries. 

What would be the point? What would it solve? It would be nothing but a waste of the little  energy he has. Crying will not make Dew’s body stop aching. Crying will not repair their fractured relationship. Crying will not fill the chasm that exists at the core of his being. 

He has spent enough nights over the last six months with tears streaking down his cheeks to know it will do nothing. So when he feels the first drop slip out of the corner of his eye, he takes a deep, shaky breath and pushes himself up. He kneels there for just a moment longer, eyes closed as he wills himself to get a grip. 

He has to shower so he can go make dinner. He promised to make Aether’s favorite and that is exactly what he will do. With another sigh, he finally stands again. He shucks his shirt off as he walks to his bathroom, throwing it in the direction of his hamper. He can hear his plants rustling as he goes past them, desperately reaching for him. He ignores them in favor of undoing his pants and kicking them off. 

He does not even turn the light on when he enters his bathroom. He just sticks his hand behind the plastic curtain and turns the shower handle towards hot. While it warms up, he pulls his hair from the bun he put it in this morning. He does not bother with brushing it despite the way his claws catch in tangles. He just needs to be quick. He would not even be doing this if not for Multi walking him to his room. He would be able to tell Mountain did not actually shower. He does not need another awkward conversation. Not when he knows Aether will not let him out of the one he promised. 

He sticks his hand under the spray from the shower head. He deems it warm enough, stepping into the shower. He hangs his head under the water, letting his hair curtain his face in wet clumps as he watches the stream swirl down the drain. The heat does feel good on his muscles, sore from the harvest and rehearsal. But cannot stay. If he lingers for too long then the others may come knocking, especially after the scene he caused. 

So, he sits up straight and gets to work scrubbing himself clean. He lathers his eucalyptus shampoo into his hair, messaging it into his scalp. He does not give it time to set, immediately rinsing it out when he is satisfied with the amount of bubbles on his hands. He places the bottle back on its shelf before grabbing the one with his body wash. He forgoes the rag he normally uses, squirting some of soap into the palm of his hand. He rubs his fingers through his fur over the planes of his body, the scent of pine filling the air. It rinses as he works since he did not bother moving out of the warmth of the water. 

Quick and easy. A simple wash is all he needs to keep Multi, or anyone else, off his back. He flips the handle to turn the shower off and steps out. He grabs his last clean towel off the rack and pats himself dry. He steps back out into his bedroom, picking up his pajamas he discarded this morning and pulling them back on. His fur is still slightly damp, but he does not let it bother him. It will fully dry soon enough. The shower did help. Just a little. It at least gave him something else to focus on for a bit. 

Dinner will give him another distraction. As he steps out into the hallway, he mentally runs through the recipe for Aether’s favorite. A creamy mushroom soup. Repeating the list over and over drives the shadows in his mind away, only tinting the edges rather than consuming him whole. He rounds the corner into the common room to see the rest of the pack back. Some are still in their day clothes while others have already changed into their pajamas. 

Dew is one of them, dressed in baggy black sweatpants and an oversized purple hoodie. He sits on the couch, leaning heavily against Ifrit. He looks ready to pass out. Mountain has half a mind to suggest taking him back to his bed so he can sleep, but he holds his tongue. He has no room to give him advice after the things he said to him before that ritual. So he just goes into the kitchen instead. 

“Mount come lick this.” Multi does not look up from where he is cutting mushrooms. 

He stops dead in his tracks and just stares. Multi has his locs pulled back into a bun and the recipe binder out in front of him. Various ingredients are dotted throughout the kitchen, a bottle of olive oil, butter, discarded parts of an onion. A pot sits on the stove, steam rising off of it. 

“You. Started dinner,” Mountain says almost in disbelief. Like he cannot fathom the idea that someone else is cooking. 

“Course I did, now come lick this.” Multi’s tail flicks in the direction of the stove. 

Mountain still feels stunned as he walks over to the pot. He does not even know what to feel. Anger? No, that is not fair to Multi. Disappointment? Annoyance? He just does not know. The last task of the day he has to distract himself got taken. He knows Multi probably means it as a way to show he cares, take something from Mountain’s shoulders, but he is unaware of how desperately Mountain needs this. But what is he supposed to do? Kick him out of the kitchen and tell him to never do this again? What would be the point of that? 

So, he simply does what Multi asks. He picks up a nearby spoon, stirring the broth in the pot before bringing it up to his lips. He blows to cool it down as he tentatively puts it into his mouth. It is definitely missing most of its flavor, though he has only just gotten started. 

Mountain licks his lips as he sets the spoon down, “It. Could use just a little bit more pepper.” 

Multi finishes slicing the mushroom, scraping off the cutting board into the bowl with the rest. He grabs the pepper grinder and gives the top a twist over the broth. Flecks of black sit at the top before he takes the same spoon Mountain had and mixes it in. 

“Okay now try.” He scoops up some of the broth and hands the spoon over to Mountain. 

He lets the liquid wash over his tongue. It is warm as it goes down. “Better.” 

“I’ll take it.” Multi grins and grabs the bowl of mushrooms. He begins to scoop them out, tossing them into the broth by the handful. 

“Would you like me to help?” Mountain’s eyes stay glued to his hands. Watching as he works. 

“Sure! You can start by taking a seat.” 

“Excuse me?” 

When about half of the mushrooms are in the broth, Multi sets the bowl down and turns to look at Mountain, “You need to take a damn break. I’m worried for you Mounty.”

“I’m okay. Promise.” 

There is a flick of hesitation in his eyes before he speaks again, “Come on. This morning when you almost got sick? Snapping your sticks at rehearsal? I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot.” 

Mountain does not know what to say. What can he say? Keep insisting that he is fine? Multi clearly is not buying that anymore. But he is not exactly keen on the idea of spilling his guts in the middle of the kitchen. Especially when the whole pack is only a few feet away in the common room. It is bad enough Aether is going to make him sit with him, he does not need to throw it at Multi too. 

He opens and closes his mouth. The longer he goes without saying anything, the more Multi’s expression softens until eventually Mountain relents. He would rather not cause another scene. He takes a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until he plops himself down on one of the barstools. 

Multi smiles at him, “Just sit and enjoy the show.” 

But what other choice does he have? With dinner gone, he searches for something else to trim the unruly garden. Ears twitching as he listens to the pack’s chatter. Eyes focused on every movement Multi makes as he stirs the rest of the ingredients into the soup. Grasping onto every little thing he can to keep himself present. Reminding himself that tomorrow will be different, the mantra that has kept him going the entire day. He just has to hold on a little longer. 

He does not even realize he is picking at the skin around his claws until movement next to him makes him startle. He turns his head to see Zephyr now sitting next to him on the other barstool, cane leaning against the counter. They take one of his hands and lace their fingers together. 

“I heard you caused quite the ruckus at rehearsal today clover.” They rub their thumb over his knuckles. 

Mountain sighs, “Really nothing happened. I snapped a few sticks, it’s not like I’ve never done that before.” 

They hum, “And that’s it? It was only some stick snapping?” 

Of all the ghouls his little incident has to get back to it just has to be Zephyr. They’re too smart, too perceptive. If it were not for the feathers and that symbol on their chest, Mountain would be convinced they have quintessence in their veins with how well they can read a room. 

“Yes. That’s all it was. We were having a good run and I got too into it. Is that a problem?” He snaps out the last part, though when he hears himself he immediately regrets it. But he cannot help it. He is tired of everyone trying to break the dirt to search for something that is not there. He is fine. Everything is fine. He has just had a tough couple of weeks but it will work itself out. He does not need this prodding. 

Zephyr eyes Mountain for just a moment before replying, “No. No problem at all.” 

“Great,” Mountain says flatly. 

They do not say anything more, but they do keep their hands laced with Mountain’s. It just makes him feel worse for snapping. Luckily though, Multi calls from the kitchen. 

“It’s almost ready!” 

He drops Zephyr’s hand as he prepares to stand, “I’ll set the table then.” 

But before he can even put one hoof on the ground, a burst of heat passes him by. Dewdrop enters the kitchen, jaw set in either pain or determination. Mountain is not sure which. Dew glances over at him, a blinding blaze meets a dark forest as their eyes catch. 

“I’ve got it.” His voice is rusty in the way that is when he first wakes up. 

“Dew…” he breathes. 

He leans heavily against the counter as he stares at Mountain, waiting to see what he wants to say. 

What does he want to say? A lot. He wants to tell him to rest. He wants to usher him back to where he was with Ifrit. He wants to ask if he is feeling better. He just wants to talk to him. Hear his voice. Feel his warmth. Bask in his light. But doubt creeps into his mind as the guilt settles like a stone in his gut. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

When the silence stretches for too long Dew just pushes himself up and goes to the cabinet where the bowls are. His body screams at him to stand up and actually do something like he is supposed to do, but he does not even twitch. He sits paralyzed as he wrestles to free himself from the vines of that unkempt garden. As wrap around him and hold him still. 

Dew should not have to do this. He should be doing this. He needs to get a hold of himself and what he is supposed to do. 

“Why thank you little sprite.” Multis nods as he stirs the soup. 

Dew says nothing in response as he opens the cabinet door. His arms visibly shake as he reaches up for the first stack of bowls. He purses his lips as he gets a hold of them. He quickly pulls them out and sets them onto the countertop with a heavy thud, as if their weight is too much for him. He flexes his jaw as he reaches up again for the second stack, still trembling. As he lifts them, the faint sound of porcelain clinking together can be heard over the chatter of the pack. He pulls them out of the cabinet to put them down next to the first stack. But he does not make it that far. 

A shatter echoes through the kitchen as the bowls hit the ground. Shards of white go flying, cascading over the floor like cracked ice. 

All of the noise in the den stops. 

Everyone turns their attention to Dewdrop. 

Everything is still, frozen in place for only a moment. Then there is a flurry of movement as the pack jumps to see what happened. 

Multi turns the stove to a simmer before trying to step over to Dew, careful of the broken pieces of porcelain that now litters the floor. 

Cumulus peers over the back of the couch calling from the common room, asking if he is alright. 

Rain pushes off the loveseat to make his way into the kitchen. 

A loud beeping starts to blare as smoke curls from Dew’s nostrils and mouth with each heavy breath he takes. Cirrus quickly opens a window as Zephyr tries to funnel the smoke out. 

Dew balls his fists at his sides as the breeze flows through the room. He hisses and slams the cabinet door shut with a heavy thunk. Before anyone can reach him, he storms out of the kitchen. His steps are dotted with red, a trail of blood left in his wake from ignoring the shards. 

Heat rolls off him in waves as he stampedes away from Multi. Past Cumulus and Rain. Past Mountain. Past all of them so he can get to his bedroom. 

Like ice left out in the summer sun, the heat finally makes Mountain move. He jumps off his stool at the same time Dew slams his door shut. He immediately moves to follow him. 

“Rain.” Mountain does not even look back to see if he follows. He knows he will. And he cannot bear to take his eyes off where Dew disappeared down the hall. 

The white porcelain now stained red as it lay cracked and shattered in the floor acts as shears to the strangling vines. Dew is hurt. Really hurt. There may be a million things they need to say to each other, but if Dew is hurt then there is not a single thing in this world or the next that will stop Mountain from going to him. He would claw his way out of a landslide just to get to Dew when he needs someone. 

Now that Rain and Mountain are outside of his door, the smell of smoke is suffocating. The fire alarm still blares from the kitchen as they glance at each other. Something heavy crashes to the ground from inside. Mountain does not hesitate to throw the door open. 

It is dark inside yet they can see perfectly thanks to the orange glow emanating from the farthest corner of the room. The only thing they can hear now are Dew’s hiccuping sobs and pained snarls. Rain dashes past Mountain, heading straight for that orange light. 

Dew has squeezed himself in the space between his bed and the wall. He is curled in on himself, knees to his chest with his face hidden. Rain immediately drops down onto his knees to scoot closer to him. 

Dew’s head lifts slightly, just enough to see his eyes. They burn brightly, shining like embers being stoked to life. His brow is set in a hard scowl, but the look in them screams nothing but fear. Like a fox cornered in its den. 

Rain moves even closer with his hands outstretched, “Dewdrop. You’re bleeding. You have to let us see.” 

He only hisses sharply in return, growling as he presses himself closer to the wall. His tail whips across the floor in front of his feet, curling from his calf. His pupils are narrowed to slits. His ears pin back as Rain continues to inch forward. 

Mountain narrows his eyes at him. He has seen him like this once before. When he hurt so badly he could not get out of bed. He had missed rehearsal and tried to still practice on his own, but he could not even hold his guitar. That moment ended with a destroyed bedroom and scorched carpet. 

“Rain. Back away from him.” Mountain’s tail twitches behind him. Something is not right. He needs to get Rain away from Dew. At the very least he needs to put himself between them. 

“He needs help,” Rain snaps. 

“I’m aware. But just look at him. We can’t touch him like this.” He has to be glowing for a reason and if the heat of the room is any indication, then Rain really needs to move. 

But Rain just ignores him. He crawls forward on his knees again, only a few feet away from Dew now. He hisses again, baring his fangs as if he were a cat. 

“It’s okay Dew. We just want to help.” Rain reaches forward toward his bloody feet. 

A dull thud echoes through the room as Dew lunges at Rain, knocking him to the ground. His claws are extended as he rears back to swipe at his face. Rain flinches and brings his arms up to shield himself but before Dew can do much as twitch, Mountain rushes forward. He grabs Dew around the middle and yanks him off of Rain. 

He hisses as Dew struggles in his grasp, causing their skin to touch. He is burning. 

“Go get Multi! Now!” Mountains yells at Rain. Aether is not here. They need his quintessence. 

Rain sits up, shaking his head and blinking hard. He looks at where Mountain is restraining Dew for a second before jumping up and darting out of the room. 

Dew continues to wiggle in his hold, desperately trying to get away from him. He hisses and spits, whipping his tail against Mountain as he digs his claws into the meat of his forearms. Mountain grunts pressing him closer to his body despite the way Dew burns. He cannot let go. Not until he is himself again. If he lets go now, he will only hurt himself more. He could even hurt the others. 

Mountain has to stop him. He has to keep everyone safe. 

The heat makes it hard though. It is oppressive, like standing too close to an open flame. Sweat collects at his hairline. His shirt clings to his body. 

“Dewdrop,” he hisses when his claws finally break the skin on his arm, “stop. It’s only me. I’m trying to help.” 

Whatever states Dew is in, it does not seem like he can hear Mountain. He growls low in his throat before slamming his head back against Mountain’s nose. He cries out, instinctively dropping his hold to clutch at his face. Dew practically pushes off of him, knocking Mountain’s head against the wall. His ears begin to ring as stars dance across his vision. 

He blinks hard to clear the fuzzy edges. Everything feels like it is moving in slow motion as he watches Dew bolt for the door. His mind screams at him to move. To stop him. With a grunt, he grits his teeth and forces himself up. He has to protect everyone. 

He is unstable on his feet, nearly falling right back over once he is up. But he does not have to go far. The space is small and Mountain lives up to his name. He takes only two steps forward before his hand shoots out and grabs at Dew’s wrist to pull him back. 

He spins on his heel immediately, lips curling up in a snarl but all Mountain can hear is the sharp ringing. Sweat makes his fur feel heavy. His head pounds in time with his heart. His limbs do not move with the speed he needs. He is not able to react fast enough. 

Dew’s claws slash across Mountain’s face, hot blood splattering onto the floor. Mountain roars as he stumbles back, hand coming up to clutch as the oozing wound. Blood pools into his mouth from a slice on his lip as his vision is clouded with red.

 His back collides with the wall as he tries to get his bearings. He feels like he cannot breathe. What is left of his visions blurs and swims as the shape of Dewdrop breaks for the door again. He weakly tries to follow, but his knees buckle. 

So much blood. 

Too much blood. 

Hot. 

Too hot. 

He cannot think. He cannot move. He has to move. He has to. Someone has to get to Dew. He tries to crawl forward in the direction he thinks he went but he does not make it far. He screams at his body to keep going, but his muscles do not even twitch. 

He collapses fully, leaning his weight against the nearest solid object as black tinges the edges of the world. The only thing he registers before he closes his unscathed eye is an overwhelming scent of ozone, amber, and spice. 

He only opens his eye again when the sound of ringing fades away, replaced by the call of his name. He slowly looks up to see Multi crouching in front of him with his arms extended.

“Mountain? Can you hear me now?” 

He nods, but immediately regrets it as his skull pounds, “Did you…?” 

Multi returns the nod, “Got his mind back.”

“Where. Is he?” 

As if on queue, Mountain can hear the sound of retching echo from the open bathroom door. 

“Is he. Alright?” Mountain’s breath comes in heavy pants. 

“Is he alright? Mount I think there are other things to worry about right now.” 

It is only then that Mountain realizes Multi has his hands pressed against the wound on his face. He can still feel the warmth of blood as it trickles down his chin to drip stains into his shirt. 

“What the fuck happened?” Multi practically begs. 

“He. He didn’t mean it. Wasn’t himself. It’s the pain and the fire. He’s not used to it yet. He just needs someone to help him.” Mountain makes a half hearted attempt to push against Multi. To try and stand. 

“Help him?!  You can’t be fucking serious right now?” He does not budge. 

“Just let me—“ 

“Mountain stop.” 

“He needs someone to help him.” 

“So do you!” 

Mountain tries to find the strength to form a rebuttal, but he cannot. The adrenaline is fading. He is starting to become aware of the pain from the slash across his face. It stings as sweat drips from his hairline to mingle with the blood. Mountain slumps back again, horns clacking against the wood of Dew’s bed frame. 

He feels like the weight of the world has been placed on top of him, body buried under layers of rock and dirt. He closes his eye again as he feels Multi move on his own hands to his face. He uses the last of strength to hold it there, keeping pressure to the wound as Multi hooks his hands under Mountain’s armpits. He lets himself be hoisted to his feet, swaying like a tree in a windstorm. 

Multi steadys him, grunting with the effort of holding up most of Mountain’s weight. He takes a tentative step forward, trying to lead Mountain towards the door. He does not have it in him to fight it. Oh he wants to. He wants to pull away and go to the bathroom to make sure Dew did not get injured in the spat. But it takes all of his focus just to put one hoof in front of the other. He would fall flat on his face if he tried. 

“Come on. We’re gonna get you out of here and we’re gonna get you fixed and cleaned up and you’re gonna be okay.” 

Mountain barely resisters the words, head still pounding. A quiet ringing coming from his hearing aids. He keeps his head down as they pass the threshold and enter the hallway where the rest of the pack is gathered around. 

They try to talk to him, call his name. Ask what happened as Multi heads towards his room. But he ignores all of them. How could he face them? Answer them? He is their foundation, or at least he was supposed to be. How can he call himself that now? When he is being carried away as a bloody mess. The last of the light leaves his garden. All that remains is weeds and thorns. Everything he was is eroded away, crumbling into dust. 

How can he be their protector, their provider? 

How could he have failed so badly? 

[runningupthatvecna]

the law of seat partners | the sequel

eddie munson x fem!reader

masterlist

summary: your grand return to Hawkins after your little field trip isn't exactly what you pictured it as, since your new boyfriend wants you all to himself. like, immediately. 9k.

cw: new relationship, this eddie still has abandonment issues and lets you see them, a tinge of angst that quickly gets resolved, 18+ smut mdni, car sex, softdom!eddie because he's my weakness, eddie is very ... talkative (meaning if you don't like dirty talk, this really isn't for you) and also a little pervy but we don't mind, unprotected vp, cumming inside, soft aftercare, lots of fluff, reader has a vulnerability kink bc i said so. this is straight up filth because eddie is down baaaaad and these two just went from cinnamon in part 4 to feral and unhinged real quick, whoops. both reader and eddie are at least 20, reader's appearance is mostly unspecified except being afab, no use of y/n.

a/n: i couldn't let these two off the hook just like that so this is a sequel to my most prized law of seat partners, but can also be read as a stand-alone. would recommend reading the whole thing though for more context since the build-up to this will probably be worth it .. yeehaw. also this took me for-fucking-ever because life was lifeing so hard and bc english isn't my first language i got upset 583 times at myself for not knowing more diverse vocab. anywho, i so appreciate everyone reading, reblogging, leaving comments and all that sweet stuff, your words mean the world to me ok love you all byeeee <3 if you see any typos, no you didn't.

lovely divider by strangergraphics-archive

The parking lot was filled with cars, cars, parents sitting in said cars, more parents and more cars.

Heavy rain with clouds hanging as low as everyone's mood welcomed you back, and you hadn't missed it in the slightest.

Fumbling for your car keys in your bag to make your transition from bus to another roof over your head as smooth and dry as possible, you sighed as you looked out the window for a few seconds as the bus came to its final halt.

For the last hour or so, Eddie's (still very warm) hand had been resting on your bare thigh, slightly calloused fingertips rubbing up and down softly every now and then, a silent reminder of what was running through his mind like an unstoppable train.

It had been building ever since he had woken up next to your sleep-doused body in the early morning, display of softness dancing over the slivers of skin he'd gotten a first taste of – which, if he was honest, only amplified this seemingly insatiable urge to be close to you in him tenfold – unallowed to take things back to where you'd left them the night before.

Mainly due to a lack of time, but also: privacy.

And your (re-clothed) exit after dawn had left him high (on oxytocin) and literally dry, destined to spend the last few hours at the camp inhaling breakfast and chaotically throwing his belongings into his bag again, all with only one thing on his mind, and it was far from new.

You.

You, you and your light.

A few kids had left the bus already to go hide under their parents' umbrellas or disappear behind the rear doors of their respective cars, and after waving hasty goodbyes to everyone in the aisle of the bus, Dustin had eagerly climbed the passenger seat of his mom's old mercedes in anticipation, since the two of them had further plans to visit family over the weekend.

Joyce had come to pick up Will and Jonathan, and well, Nancy since she'd let everyone know that she'd be spending the following days at the Byers house, while Robin and Max and Lucas would be driven to their respective residences by mother Steve in his beamer.

Your initial plan had entailed to drive that car of yours home and bury yourself in bed, the time away from each other with the intention to recharge the social batteries being the general consensus of your friend group.

You'd all meet again the following week anyway.

Something you hadn't calculated into that plan though was returning from a trip of this kind with something as foreign to you as a relationship, so naturally, you'd looked at Eddie a bit puzzled when you felt his fingers find yours and sneakily intertwine, palm to slightly smaller palm, as you both stood in the aisle while the bus got emptier, waiting for Harrington and Buckley to yeet their asses out of the back door one final time.

"What?", he inquired about the very prominent question mark on your face at the feeling of him not wanting to let go, "I got word just this morning that the sacred and powerful seat law council has gathered to discuss potential extensions to um, vans, .. in-in case no one told you, yet."

Eddie sheepishly grinned as he remembered your words from last night with a vividness only a dungeon master could have, the mere thought of you in that utterly blissful state he'd been dreaming for so long to fuck you into sent a tinge of want straight to his dick, giving your hand a light squeeze before pushing his black leather jacket into your chest with a ringed hand.

The gesture itself an outpour of affection, a simple reminder that he was looking out for you.

Even if it came down to something as simple as you not getting rain-soaked, and as a result, end up sick in bed.

While observing the pores, lines and muscles in your face closely and interpreting the confusion displayed there – added your obvious speechlessness – as uncertainty, Eddie started wondering if this was the moment in which you were finally realizing the gravity of your decision.

The impact that last night at the camp really, truly had.

"Unless you just want to go home of course and be all by your pretty self .. in peace", he spoke again, big brown doe eyes starting to resemble the shape of full moons as they soulfully pierced through you, "I need you to know though that this circumstance would very much feel like a dagger through the heart and I would most likely perish from the absence–", a nervous chuckle escaped him as he cut himself off, "no seriously, just say a word and I'll let y–"

"Eddie", you interrupted him with a soft reciprocation of his gaze, which he had already expertly averted towards the top of the seat that you were leaning yourself against.

A desperate attempt to avoid you hearing the loud, uneasy thunder processing through his mind.

A sign he was getting in his own head about your hesitation, which wasn't even hesitation in the first place, but to the very convincing irrational anxiety-driven part of his brain, nervous system on full alert preparing for the familiar inevitable, it certainly looked like you were just reevaluating the situation he had soooo selfishly maneuvered you into.

The situation of being seen more frequently now with Hawkins' one and only local head of the freaks. Obnoxious nerd. Too dramatic for his own good, should be avoided at all costs.

Eddie felt a sting in his heart region.

"I'd totally let you go home, I could drive you even, but then you'd have to get your car at some point, or no, wait! I– I could get it for you later mayb–"

"Eddie!"

It was hard for him to look you in the eyes.

Instead, he squeezed his own shut as he cupped the back of your hand that was still entwined with his other and brought all three of them up to press the back of yours against his chest.

His free one softly grabbed and wrapped around your forearm, visibly trying to hold on to you.

In hopes that it would lead to you holding on to him in turn, and prevent the all too painfully familiar default he had learned to accept at a time he was too uncomfortable about to recall for too long.

There was so much body heat seeping through that shirt.

"It's– I mean, it's no big deal if you don't want to be around me any longer than you had to, I would totally get that and I wouldn't even bother you anym–"

"Eddie!"

Boisterous demeanor long gone with you, the doubt in himself creeping back up into his consciousness tugged at your heartstrings.

Your hand squeezed his, softly. One of his eyes carefully opened slightly, corners of his lips pulled back, face squished upwards as if he was awaiting the verdict. You could tell that the boy was even holding his breath.

"Yeah?"

"I couldn't stand to see you perish. What I really, really do want though is spending the weekend with you", you smiled at him with your warm eyes as you slightly leaned further into his space.

Feeling your body closer (you also booped his cute nose), his eyelids fluttered open, face relaxing instantly, his lungs releasing the stored air in a huff.

"Where's this coming from?"

"It's just–", he sighed breathing out through his nose, eyes darting to the ceiling as if he was going to find the courage to open up about his traumatic childhood troubles there, before those full moons returned to you, "you looked a little confused and I .. I miiight have read that as disinterest when I proposed for you to uh, take a seat."

Those warm brown orbs, to die for.

They made you melt once again, swimming in that deep ocean of him for a second before you scrambled for an explanation with a valley between your eyebrows, "oh Eds, that's not at all– that's not what I wanted you to think. I was just in my own head because this?", you paused to gesture the index of your free hand between yourself and him, "is not what I thought was gonna happen. Like, at all", you shook your head, "it’s so new to me and no one's ever been so eager to spend time with me like that, it's just.. it's confusing me out of previous experience, or better said lack thereof, so I just didn't expect this, and I'm sorry it came across as me feeling indifferent or even uninterested, because–because I'm not."

Ding dong, you've reached Eddie's cortex.

"No no, I'm sorry", he paused to take a breath as his head was slightly turned to the side, eyes not quite daring to reciprocate your gaze yet when instead they observed the scenery outside the bus, "I can get a little needy when someone doesn't shove me away from them and my head can be a bit mean to me sometimes."

Gut wrencher.

The internal tug at his confession was overwhelming, urge to kiss all those bad thoughts out of him and away for good creating another wave of awareness for your feelings, hence why you took a deep breath before speaking, "don't ever think you need to apologize for having needs, sweet bean", your thumb with the ring on it swiped over his own before you took a step closer, wrapping your free arm around his back in an attempt to convey your intentions more clearly, "when I said I'm all yours, I meant it."

You'd stay with him. Of course you would. Your Eddie.

His hands squeezed yours again.

"And I'm all yours, always been."

Smiling, you pressed yourself against his body lightly, the urge to be as close to him as physically possible coursing through your entire system, all the way into every single nerve ending your skin encased.

It made the bridge of your nose kiss his jaw and the tip rub up towards his cheek to where you then dipped it.

Taking him in.

Eddie's arms showed their temporary decor, as he allowed his guard to drop and felt the goosebumps spread.

There were so many more things he wanted to let you know. So many things he wanted to tell you, explain to you. He didn't determine the bus aisle to be the perfect location for that conversation, though.

This sweet moment of him allowing your light to shine through the cracks of his armour, filling the few existent gaps between the both of you, adding onto the events of the past few days, made it real difficult for you to go home and leave him to his own devices anyway.

Probably even more so now, back in Hawkins and at home, with no teacherly scrutiny looming around the corner.

"Let's obey the law then, hm?", you let your nose bump against his softly, a surge of hot and heavy feelings for him spreading through your entire system once again as you noticed him observing you intently, before your head nodded towards the exit.

You decided right there and then that you would always make him and his wellbeing your first priority.

Eddie decided right there and then that he couldn't be more madly in love with you.

You made each other feel so seen.

Without letting go of your hand he lead you to his van as you shielded your head with the leather, clutching your bag to your chest while the boy just let his casually dangle down from his shoulder.

It looked like you were pretty much alone in the parking lot now, and since Eddie had noticed this fact as well, he wasted no second longer to have his warm lips back on the skin of your neck and his hands on your cheek and hip with a low, almost relieved sigh from the depths of his chest as he squished you between the wet metal of his van and his hot and very bothered body.

Yours was getting more hot and more bothered by the millisecond.

The memory of the way it had been held by him last night had already recoded every nerve ending.

His soft touch, the care he'd bathed you in.

Skin abundantly ablaze from the thought alone.

Gently attacking your lips next, his arm dropped his bag onto the asphalt carelessly, dark curls already soaking wet due to the rain, hands instantly back on your bare waist underneath your shirt, ringed fingers digging into the plush warm skin as small droplets ran down the bridge of his nose, landing right where the tip of it was nudging your cheek softly.

The need to feel each other again so very prominent in every cell of your being.

And Eddie's, apparently.

Without any care in the world about anything else.

The nudge soon turned into an up and down rub from your jaw to just below your lower eyelid, another pleased and relieved hum escaping his lungs through smiling lips, before they returned to your own, warm and wet and all yours, a little out of breath he broke the kiss then to pull away just enough to be able to speak, "do you want to– fuck, is this okay?"

"Very okay, yeah", you replied instantly, minding that now existent gap between your faces way too much.

Eddie's touch starvation fervently groaned into your mouth as if to say thank you. For letting him be close to you. Do this to you.

Letting him surround your senses, make you feel good, be your anchor when you needed to feel safe.

Yearning incarnate.

A soft squeeze to your hip followed when you lifted his jacket, extending it over his head.

Slotting your lower lip between his again with a whimper, granting his tongue access after your hands had found their way into the mop of his sopping curls, one of them parked in the back of his neck to caress his scalp softly, the other slowly coming around to cradle his wet cheek.

With this sense of urgency, lovingly demonstrated by the bulge in his pants which you could definitely feel, his hips pinned yours against the backdoor, behind his back another empty SUV, parked a meter or so away, shielding both of you from potentially any bypasser's periphery.

Breaking apart for another second, dark brown hues were scanning your face and finding infatuation there, before returning home, goosebumps spreading over your arms now as well, and you could feel your chest tighten at the way he looked you in the eyes, dimples making an adorable appearance.

He was stunning.

So fucking pretty you thought your heart was going to burst if he'd stay close to you like this for just another second.

The hint of stubble that decorated his jaw and chin and the space between nose and lip was now even more visible than last night, because he just hadn't been able to find the nerve to shave this morning either (if he was honest, it was because he hadn't wanted to borrow Steve's razor again just because he'd simply forgotten his own shaving supplies on Wayne's side of the bathroom cabinet in the first place).

Wet rosy cheeks, which you thought looked very underkissed, a mix of rain and spit almost dripping from his lower lip, mouth hanging slightly open to get the oxygen refill you had kept him from inhaling.

A brush of your thumb over his cheekbone caused his eyes to slowly close, just for a bit more than a second.

Eddie wanted to savour each and every moment in your presence and copy and paste the feeling of you surrounding him, of you actually liking him into every cell of his existence.

That bit more of a second, it was time enough for him to let out a content hum and for your heart to basically combust in your ribcage.

His warmth and softness, the way he just was with you – it was simply said driving you nuts.

The grip on your waist loosened just for his eager hands to teasingly slowly continue the journey upwards, pushing your shirt along with them until his thumbs reached the underside of your tits, releasing another pleased hum through smiling lips, an acknowledgement of you having sat hours and hours next to him without any fucking bra on.

A detail his observant gaze hadn't missed in the morning when you'd floated down that bus aisle, straight towards him, the sight of softly pebbled nipples through the cotton being the reason for his jeans to already feel a little tighter.

Thrill of being touched again now, receiving Eddie's attention, vibrated through your entire system, heat of the moment making your eyelids flutter shut.

And of course Eddie noticed.

As if he wanted to learn and study every atom of your very existence, consume you, his eyes wandered over the peak of your cute nose, the soft lines around your closed eyes and your eyebrows, the soft rosy apples of your cheeks that were wettened from the rain, that cute cupid's bow sitting above your pillowy lips, a rain drop that had gathered on the edge of your chin.

The raindrop he was itching to kiss away.

He thought he was gonna lose his goddamn mind over you.

"Eddie, please", you breathed out in a whiny tone, desperate to have his lips back on yours and for his hands to continue their expedition.

Pulling back, he looked at your worked up expression wistfully once more.

It was so foreign to you, being perceived like that, by someone like him, it turned every single nerve in your body into live wires and messed with your sense of reality.

"Please what, hm? What do you want, baby?"

Already grinding himself against your hip in slow rolls, Eddie decided to reattach his mouth to yours after you gave him the answer he wanted to hear you say, sucking lightly on your lower lip, hands finally reaching further up to fully grab your tits and roll your hardened nipples against the sides of his index fingers with the pads of his thumbs, soft whimpers and moans and subtle twitches from you only spurring him on.

The rain was loudly thudding against the leather of Eddie's jacket, dripping down onto his shirt, your shirt, soaking the both of you further anyway as you left it hanging over your heads.

As though it didn't really serve Eddie's intended purpose, it did have the effect of keeping your faces really close together, noses digging into each others' cheeks as you explored each other with your tongues, your hands still cradling his face, before one of them slowly wandered down over his chest, his belly, continuing its journey until your fingertips reached that familiar handcuff buckle.

They even dared to dip a little lower, ghosting over the very noticeable bulge protesting against its confinement, making the boy in front of you hiss after you both broke apart.

It fed your ego, being the compelling reason, and it reignited that spark of curiosity in you about all the other reactions you'd possibly be able to elicit out of Eddie.

You made it your mission just like you had last night, attaching your lips to his neck, kissing, licking, sucking on the tendons and muscles and slightly salty skin between his jaw and junction of throat and shoulder, hidden underneath the dripping wet curtain of dark waves.

"Mhhm baby, you're driving me insane, .. ngh, fuck, need you .. s-so bad", Eddie moaned out in almost only a whisper, one hand leaving the warmth of your tits to reach behind you, pulling the back door open and throwing both your bags in, before leaving the roof you'd created and blinking at you through his dark, wet lashes, holding five fingers and a palm out to you.

Ever the gentleman, huh?

It was quite dark in there since the windows were tinted and you had to move around with a ducked head.

Random papers, a box of tissues, a few empty cans and items of random blankets, clothing and even a carpet were spluttered around on the floor, reflecting the chaotic aspect of Eddie's personality perfectly.

You didn't mind the mess at all.

There was a small box with guitar picks somewhere in the mix, a black bandana tied to the passenger seats' headrest. The chain of a pair of handcuffs dangling down from the metal bar holding the headrest.

The sight made you swallow on instinct.

A bunch of dried wildflowers stuck out from the slit between windshield and dashboard, a black and white sticker of The Hideout reminding everyone that sat in the front of the metalhead's preferred whereabouts on his Tuesday evenings.

An open can of coke – hopefully empty – sat in the drink holder patiently, alongside a wild and varied collection of tapes surrounded by random clutter in the middle console.

"Don't even say anything, it's cleaner than usual."

You chuckled at him before he shut the van's door behind his back, not even intending to comment anything, since your body and brain were practically buzzing with the thrill of getting to be with the boy in front of you again like you'd been dreaming of for so long.

"I couldn't care less right now, to be honest."

Eddie chuckled.

"Thank fuck."

Increasingly bothered by the lack of his lips on yours, you decided to fist your hand into the wetness of his shirt covering his chest, pulling him back towards you as you reconnected, and soon, his hands were everywhere.

Heated breathing into each others mouths, barely able to break apart for even just a second to rid each other of your shirts, just to pull each other back into an oddly bent embrace with kiss bitten lips as you reached for his belt buckle, while Eddie let the back of his index finger slide down your chest, featherlight touch against one of your freed nipples, peaks standing to his attention from the chilly air.

The soft moan slipping through your lips was swallowed by him, fuel to the fire burning for you somewhere in his abdominal region.

Facing your back, he let himself fall onto the backseat after unzipping his rain-splattered jeans and letting them pool around his ankles.

Those ten hours (turned into eleven, thanks to the traffic jam just outside Chicago) had already felt like a lifetime, and it had taken Eddie at least seven points of damage having to keep his hands to himself for most of the ride, so naturally he allowed himself some forthrightness now that he had the chance to get you alone.

Being manhandled into his lap hadn't been on your bingo card for the day, but you really couldn't say that you minded, either.

That familiar heat, the need for him had been pooling between your thighs and crawling up your spine, spreading through your entire system ever since he'd fallen asleep on your shoulder on the bus in the morning.

So yeah, there was no more time to be wasted.

Eddie had you leaning against his chest, lips already pressing kisses to the junction of neck and shoulder, while his ringed hands went home, roughly kneading your bare tits, an occasional slap against them making your eyes roll and your back arch.

You could feel his eyes burning holes through your skin as he ate up your reactions, pulling you against him so his lips could start nibbling on the skin below your ear as your eyes fluttered shut at his gentle roughness, your back now flush against his heaving chest.

He knew exactly what he was doing and it surely was having the desired effect.

A) getting you impossibly soaked for him

and

B) also finding out, learning more about what you liked to be done to you.

"Mhh baby, you're such a dream, letting me have you like this", a low voice hummed against your ear as his left ring clad hand stayed on your right tit, kneading softly while his other slowly trailed over your belly, straight towards the fire pit between your thighs, and suddenly the whole inside of the van felt like a sauna.

"Not even able to wait until I get you home, hm?", a gentle lick and bite to your neck as he let the flesh go with a small pop, "it does make me wonder", the whispery ton his voice had just dropped to driving your senses to capitulation as the tip of his nose nudged the hinge of your jaw, "if I go just a bit lower", a small peck landing right below your earlobe, while his warm breath trickling down your neck was doing the rest, "are you gonna be wet for me?"

A small chuckle escaped you, surprised at your own ability to even get anything out in your current state, "you'd like that, wouldn't you, Munson?", your gaze meeting his own as you craned your head, not even awaiting a response to your rethorical question but since it was Eddie's lap you were finding yourself seated on, he didn't waste the chance to say something in return, "damn right, I would in fact die for it, sweetness."

Dramatic ass.

Another small peck on your cheek a delightful juxtapose to the nature of the grip he had you in.

You also let out a soft whimper at his words, the pet name, the tantalizingly raspy sounding voice he uttered them in, and a thrilling shiver ran down your spine as he let his middle finger slowly feel over the wet patch that had formed on the fabric of your panties.

A smug hum from the depths of his lungs met your neck and acknowledged the sensation, "you wanna know about all the countless nights I thought about this, about you, sweet stuff– like this", Eddie paused, the same finger now finding its destiny behind the cotton, the fabric being pushed to the side as he let the digit softly gather the slick and rub back and forth over your already swollen clit skillfully, making you wince at the sudden direct contact and your pussy clench around emptiness.

Another soft moan from your lungs made him continue his tale of vulgarity, "with my hand wrapped around my rock hard dick, thinking about how fucking hot you'd sound, how perfect you'd feel, all the filth you'd let me to do to you."

As if on cue, that finger slowly dipped in, your breath getting stuck in your throat as he traced it back up in the same speed, slow circles over the swollen nub along with his whispery confession making it hard for your brain to process any thought at all.

"Oh my god, Eds", his touch was clouding your mind, and with the high he was causing you to experience, you couldn't help yourself but respond with bucking your hips against his hand, a soft and desperate plea for him to give you more, more of his body, more of his love and with that, keep you safe in his arms.

"Yeah baby? S'good?"

"Mhm", you nodded quickly, "feels s-so good, you're so hot, fuck!"

The dark haired boy behind you let out a warm and deep hum against your neck at your soft, vulnerable admission and the feeling of having your warm juices coat his knuckles, the feeling of him solely being the reason for that stickiness gathering between your legs.

Eddie was eating it up, having that effect on your body and you letting this happen.

The exposed state, the trust you graced him with.

You on the other hand felt the hardness digging into your lower back with every squirm over his lap and the way goosebumps arose on your skin at the thought of giving yourself to him again.

Letting him do these things to you.

Feeling like you could let yourself fall, trust him. After imagining it for so many nights, you had stopped counting months ago.

"Eddie, please", you breathed out into the warm, slightly stuffy air inside the van, one of your hands had found a life of its own by caressing Eddie's forearm draped across your torso.

Every sense in your body so alert that you could feel his arm hair tickling your fingertips.

"Yeah, needing me that bad, hm? Wanna ride me, sweet thing?"

"Mhm yes", you whined, hips intuitively grinding down, adding emphasis to your response.

"Fuck", he groaned into your ear without any hesitation as his hand left your slick folds, shimmied your panties down and off quickly and grabbed his cock, letting it glide through your heat in an agonizingly slow pace, making sure you'd definitely feel that silky head nudge your sensitive bundle of nerves.

The mere thought and anticipation of getting filled again made you even more dizzy with want, soft caress turning into a grip of the arm that was still slung around your waist as it held you in place while still giving your nipple some love.

Eddie couldn't believe his fucking luck either. He had you spread out and open for him on his lap, a sopping wet mess, light grinding of his hips causing the purply red tip of his cock to catch your clit deliciously over and over again.

And you were all his. By far the best thing to come out of this trip.

The bestest day of possible best days in the Munson books.

"No idea how I just survived sitting next to you for ten hours without getting to touch you like this, shit."

The metalhead buried his face in your neck, lips pressed tightly to your soft skin while he let the tip of his cock breach your entrance.

You welcomed him with tightness and a sinful moan, the incredible feeling of fullness you'd been missing since last night spreading through your abdomen like a warm wave.

"Want you to fuck me, baby, please."

Eddie chuckled, his need for you evident in the way he was gripping your flesh, passionately trying not to blow already as he felt your cunt adjust to the welcome intrusion.

"Jesus christ, gonna make me cum already if you're gonna say stuff like that, fuck."

Time stood still.

Just for a glimpse, a fragment of the situation, and it made you realise just how much you'd been missing having someone in your life this way.

It made you want nothing more than to make the boy underneath you feel good. Make him feel loved and appreciated and worthy.

Eddie let his hand rest on your mound as you started slowly grinding your hips down into his, answering the gentle bucking of his own, the lewd sound of your wetness filling the space around the two of you.

"Mhm, yeah baby fuck me back, god you're doing soooo good", he raised his head a little to nuzzle his nose into your cheek as his lips brushed against it with a smile, "taking me so well, perfect little cunt just made for me."

"Yeah?"

You craned your head towards his face as it was lolled back and resting on the top of the seat behind him, lips almost touching his, which were pulled into the widest smile.

"Yeah."

The Prince of Metal closed the gap.

A sickeningly sweet moment blossoming between the both of you as you slowly melted into each other.

The smile so contagious it made breaking apart again almost impossible.

And then, in true Eddie fashion, his tongue darted out to lick up a broad stripe from the dip of your shoulder up to your jaw, tasting the thinnest sheen of sweat and rain on your skin before coming down again to suck a deep purple bruise into the tender flesh of your throat.

It made your head fall back against the headrest again, having him express his desire in such an indecent way.

Letting him mark you, his need for you on display for all of fucking Hawkins to see.

And it made your cunt clench around the hardness that was still slowly pumping in and out of your drenched walls, eliciting a deep breathy moan from Eddie's lungs.

Eyes half lidded, he brought his hand up from between your thighs to have you suck the stickiness off his fingers and the sight and feel of your warm tongue connected to his skin like that made Eddie nearly bust, so naturally, he did the next logical thing.

Collaring your throat and giving it a brief squeeze before travelling down south, the twitch of your legs imminent when two of his fingertips reestablished contact with your throbbing clit, rubbing soft circles over it, setting every cell of your existence up to burst into flames at any second.

"Feels so good Eds, you f-feel so so good", you breathed out under more soft whimpers, head facing him again so he could get a good look at your needy expression.

It drove him mad. It was like a switch had been flipped.

"Yeah, s'that how my girl likes it?"

You were pretty sure your eyes just hit the back of your skull.

My girl? Did you even hear that right?

And he was far from stopping, those skilled fingers slightly increasing their speed instead as he released a guttural moan at the way you were clenching around him once more, "shiiiit baby, gonna let me fuck you all weekend, yeah? Gonna fuck you so good and so deep, gonna make you feel so good around my cock ... yeah, that's what you want, isn't it baby? God you're so f-fucking tight and so beautiful and so warm and wet and all for me", Eddie paused his breathy responses to your sweet whimpers, the hand that was still on your chest pinching your nipple hard at the sensation of your pussy throbbing around him eagerly, a lewd moan ripping though your vocal cords as he continued, "see what you do to me baby, feel how fucking hard you got me? This is all you, for you only, s-shit."

His hips thrusted upwards at his last sentence adding emphasis, and you let him take control, set a rather harsh pace while the attention he gave to your most sensitive spot remained the same, a beautiful contrast to the way he was pounding your sopping cunt in his lap, accompanied by the lewd deep grunts and groans coming from his lungs.

Entirely incapable of forming any coherent word at this point, you just let him make you feel good and use you for his pleasure.

Anything spilling over your lips in this moment would have probably been utter nonsense.

Every nerve felt like a live wire, his words adding onto a neediness you didn't know you had within yourself.

Instead, his comments on your little noises continued. You couldn't deny your surprise at his talkativeness, but you were also eating it up.

"Yeah baby? Like how good my cock feels? You like how fucking hard it is for you, yeah? God you look so fucking pretty soaking it for me, feels so f-fucking good", something close to a whisper gently invaded your ear and it sent one of your hands grabbing at the back of his neck and pull on his hair a little, holding him right there.

"Ye-yeah, love your pretty dick Eds, f-feels so good getting u-used like that", you babbled out, every cell of skin on fire as he helped you grind down into his lap.

Eddie was about to lose his mind.

He was also wondering how on mother earth it was possible for him to hold out this long. Fucking you like this and hearing the filth and praise spill from your lips without having blown his load through your abdomen yet.

Another pinch of your nipple had you whimper out his name followed by a string of unholy profanities, the carnal need to feel him this way being satisfied was sending your brain into another dimension.

"Wanna cum Eds, wanna cum for you, please", you moaned out into the air, the inside of the van still feeling more like a sauna to you. Due to your .. activities.

"Mh fuck– god that's so hot, such a good girl using your words like that, turn around baby, wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

With a slap to the side of your ass, cause for the fat of it to jiggle from the impact, Eddie's bucking hips came to a stall, the trance you'd found yourself getting fucked into slowly fizzling out.

You did as you were told once your brain registered his unholy instruction, trying to stand up on really fucking wobbly legs and turning around just to admire the view for a second.

Legs spread with you between them and his ass near the edge of the seat, dark curls still birthed small rivers onto his heaving chest, only for them to turn into subject to gravity as your infatuated gaze followed their trail.

The sheen of sweat on his skin accentuated the tattoos that you'd swore yourself to examine more closely in the near future.

Eddie's face popped a downright naughty smirk that had all the abilities to melt the north pole, and the only difference between the cherry tone of colour in his cheeks and his dick was that the latter was additionally glistening with your juices while it rested on the soft expanse of his belly right along that happy trail which also presented itself sticky with sin, and your eyes couldn't help but take in the beads of your arousal that had already dripped down onto his balls and decorated his trim of the dark thatch sitting around the base of his dick.

It was like he had emerged straight from your hottest wet dream, and your brain was currently making you very aware of the damp emptiness between your own thighs as your gaze took in the vision.

"Like what you see, huh?", said vision commented the desire written all over your facial features, and without breaking eye contact nor that lethal smirk he leaned forward, fingertips softly grazing the outsides of your plush thighs in an upward motion and towards the backs of them, further up to grab at your behind, while he let his searing gaze cascade down over your pebbled nipples, flushed chest and stomach, decorated with droplets of rain, until it arrived at your belly.

"C'mere sweet thing", he nuzzled his face into the softness of it by pulling you another step towards him with his ringed palms right below your ass, an attempt to convey his pure intentions with you, confirmed by a soft kiss right above your belly button.

Eddie leaned back while pulling you further, making you straddle him as he then helped you guide his soaked, rock hard length back to where you both needed it to be.

Moaning in unison you lowered yourself back down until he was fully seated inside of you again, the new angle causing your clit to rub along the top of his cock with such delicacy, you knew it wouldn't take long for you to see stars.

"God fucking damn it baby", it spilled from his lips as he felt the wet warmth envelop his dick again, "can't believe this is real, fucking love your pretty pussy."

It felt like you were floating whenever you were around him. Literally.

"'Fuck, f-feels so fucking good, Eds", you whined into his hair as you grappled with balance, instinct to slowly grind yourself over his lap, that hunger for him taking over, his strong arms coming to wrap around you protectively, pulling you further into his chest.

Holding you as close as possible.

Needing you as close as possible.

It made shivers run down your spine, overwhelming need to engrave this moment and all these feelings for him into every cell of your being.

You'd never felt this safe.

Eddie buried his face in your neck, nipping at your slightly salty skin followed by soothing licks over the blossoms of purple he'd left earlier.

He didn't mind the wet strands of your hair sticking to his cheeks.

And then, his hands ventured out to travel once more.

Grabbed your ass again, gave it a generous spank, making you hiss in return, before his fingertips slid up over your waist and back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He slid them all the way around your figure just so his thumbs could catch the underside of your tits, moaning your name over and over again as each grind of your hips over his own caused him to nearly see stars with how turned on he was.

"That's it baby yeees, use me juuust like that, fucking love seeing this side of you come out", he commented the pleasure slowly building behind your eyelids, the steady bounce of your slick pussy on his used swollen cock, and just when you steadied yourself with your hands on the seat behind him, he seized the opportunity to catch one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking on the bud eagerly as the symphony of your whimpers combined with his muffled moans returned to fill the inside of his van.

Wayne had given it to him as a present-slash-reward for not failing driving school, and for the past couple years he had undeniably rocked it into the condition it was today with selfless help from his bandmates, but never in a hundred centuries had he expected to ever use this space to fuck you senseless.

How he ended up here right now was beyond him, but he also wasn't really in the headspace to question it, not while your sweet wet cunt was happily wrapped around his dick, bouncing and bouncing relentlessly while his dark round hues were glued to your facial features, needing to soak up your reactions to his actions like a sponge.

It didn't take long for you to reach the peak from here, your hips finding a mind of their own as you chased that euphoric feeling, speeding up while he kept swirling his warm, wet tongue around your sensitive bud and his moans transpired into your skin, "gonna cum Eds, oh my fucking god", you mewled, the head which you had thrown back a while ago coming back up to look the metalhead in the eyes through heavy lids as you pulled him off your tits.

Hitting the headrest, he was hotly out of breath, patterns drawn on his neck with wet strands of dark hair, and you couldn't tell anymore if it was the rain or sweat that caused his beautiful skin to glisten.

He was biting down on his lower lip, that dark pair of eyes fixated on your own, fully in the moment with you as one of his hands moved back down and between your bodies, sinfully rubbing over your soaking wet clit again to help you along.

"Yeah pretty baby, that sweet warm cunt getting me so close, oh shit– c'mon, lose it for me", Eddie's voice echoed through your lustclouded mind like a prayer as he instinctively bucked his hips up into you, following your rhythm and pace.

And with this intense combination of stimulations you were receiving from him, that spot inside you being nudged over and over and over again and his eyes on your own, you sensed that it wouldn't take much more for you to finally feel those hot white flashes quake through your system.

"Inside, w-want you i-inside", you muttered out into the air with all your senses on fire, one of your hands coming around the back of his neck to bury your fingers in the mess of damp curls once again as you added emphasis to your words by giving him a few sloppy grinds over his sweat-sticky lap.

"Shit, are you s-sure?"

"Yeah I'm f-fucking sure, go on baby, fuck I'm gonna cuuum", you huffed out, entirely out of breath, just before the build up reached its peak and the most mind-numbing pleasure ripped though your being, vision going blurry and all as Eddie's dark eyes watched you fuck yourself into a trance until he furrowed his brows, a first hint at the announcement of his own release, and verbalized in soft repetitions of your name.

With a softly mumbled "so fucking filthy, so good for me sweetness, gonna make me– oh shit" and a guttural groan he imminently followed your lead, the vibration and rhythmical clench of your cunt along with those sweet whimpers of his name doing enough to send him over the edge right with you as he let you ride out both your highs, accompanied by a few little oh fucks as his ringed hands helped keeping your hips from stuttering.

It was so easy to just let yourself fall.

With him.

Not long after you both caught your breath, his arms sneaked around your figure wordlessly, gently pulling you into his embrace, hot breath fanning your shoulder, lips releasing a satisfied little hum as it stuck to your warm skin.

Cheeks flushed a bright rose and half lidded dark brown orbs gazed warmly at you from underneath his damp bangs, the infatuation with your being embellishing his face, chest heaving with the aftermath of his climax.

A sweet moment spread through the inside of the van, full of serenity and bliss, everything that existed on the outside already long forgotten.

"Didn't realize you could have such a filthy mouth on you, Munson", your hand reached to grab his face once you came back down to earth, pulling his chin up slightly to press your lips against his again, grinning widely as an eyebrow quirked up at you.

"Oh yeah? I know yesterday you mentioned dreaming of me, but– a-are you telling me that you also thought about what I'd be like before?"

The smirk spreading over his lips and mild twitch of his dick at the thought, which you definitely felt, doing absolutely nothing to hide the effect of your words.

"I might have imagined a thing or two, yeah."

If you were totally honest, the question of what he'd be like in bed had been the main content of most of your daydreams.

Not to mention those at night.

Eddie chuckled smugly, the newly acquired knowledge pouring oil into the fire that had already set his humble ego aflame.

"Didn't realize you could get even hotter than you already are, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes with a smile dancing over your face.

One of his hands that had lazily massaged your ass came up to cup your face, pulling you towards him again as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips followed by a smile against them, thumb softly stroking the skin.

Another peck to your forehead before he gently let you move down and rest your head on his collarbone with your nose tucked just below his jaw, snuggle into his embrace.

Comforting silence. A minute or two to breathe. With each other.

"Thank you", voice coming out as gentle as you'd intended, you lifted your head and placed a kiss on his neck before humming against it.

"For what?"

"Making me feel safe? You're the first person to ever succeed at that, you know?"

His chest rose and fell from a deep breath.

Draped around your figure, Eddie's arms squeezed you to his body.

"Sweetness, I am honoured. I'll always keep you safe, I promise."

"So will I."

Another peck landed on the same spot and your hand cradling the other side of his head felt his cheek push up.

God, you loved him.

Meanwhile, Eddie considered himself as lucky as someone who'd won the lottery.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since you both had successfully escaped the rain, inside of your mind still fuzzy from all those feelings for him and the remnants of that head spinning orgasm he'd just given you.

Eddie didn't know either since he had most certainly left his last couple braincells on that bus, and to be fair, he also couldn't find a care in his body.

A lifetime with you wouldn't be long enough.

What he did care about though were the noticeable goosebumps that had spread over your arms, your back and your thighs, that familiar urge to keep you safe which had kept him up for countless nights crawling back into his conscience, "wanna get you home and under a warm shower, and then we can order pizza or something. How's that sound?"

A soft sigh spilled from your lips, stuck in between the promise of a warm shower and the torment of having to get off of him, losing that skin on skin contact you both were so drawn to.

Touch as the love language, huh.

A nod and a smile.

To your own displeasure, that empty, dull feeling returned instantly once he slipped out of your swollen cunt as you got up, followed by the equally unpleasant attempt to get redressed.

Not that you didn't like clothes on you, it was just that literally everything was soaked from the rain at this point, and you only noticed this totally surprising fact once you started rummaging through your own bag of pieces to wear.

The extra pair of panties you had quick-wittedly packed and a shirt you'd worn on day three of the camp had survived the flood outside, and the metalhead who was crouched down next to you in search of anything dry faced a similar fate.

He did have to put his damp boxers back on though, unfortunate but bearable considering the short ride to the trailer park.

Just like the heavy rain had on the way, the tape that had played over the stereo during the ride stopped abruptly as Eddie turned the engine off, mere seconds after he'd put the vehicle in park right outside the Munson trailer.

"Wayne's left already so we've got the space to ourselves and all the time in the world, babe. Well, at least twelve hours until he comes home", Eddie whipped his head around to you, sending those dark damp curls flying before he flashed his teeth at you in an adorably goofy grin.

Slipping out of the driver's seat he stood in the open door as he fumbled with the seatbelt that had wrapped around his left arm, inwardly cursing the dumb thing, while you got up to climb out of the van a little more gracefully.

Your eyes fell to the space where you'd sat as you were about to shut the door, instant heat creeping into your cheeks and mouth going completely dry at the sight of what had come into your periphery.

This was irreversible. You weren't sure if your body was frozen from the chilly post-storm air or the realization of your mistake.

"Uhm, Eddie?"

Everything else you intended to say died in your throat.

He stopped in his tracks with a gleeful yes, sweetheart?, gaze coming up to eye you curiously, totally unaware of your discomfort about the situation presenting itself to your eyes.

Only when you didn't give him an answer he tried to follow your line of sight from the point he was situated at, eyebrows disappearing behind the bangs.

"Oh fuck, .. that's really hot", with an amused chuckle he commented the small patch of your mixed cum that had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of the passenger seat.

Your brain was short-circuiting.

"You're– you're not mad?"

"Mad?", Eddie slapped his door shut and practically speedwalked around the front of his van, and when he arrived in front of your slightly shivering body, he pulled you against him, making sure the view of your backside was shielded by the open door, "baby no, why would I? This is perfect. You know what this means?"

It came out as a soft almost whisper to your ear, his stubble scratching the side of your face as his jaw moved.

Shaking your head, you shot him a questioning look, the nervousness in you floating away as quickly as it had risen, as he reciprocated your gaze with another goofy grin.

"It's a commemoration of our bond. Because now we'll literally be seat partners forever."

The sentiment made you snort.

Eddie grabbed the bags before escorting you to the trailer door, silly grin decorating his silly face for another silly hour.

Your car stayed in the school's parking lot for the whole week.

––––

taglist: @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @spellbounddd, @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint, @mystars123, @gothmingguk, @kennafild, @chloe-6123, @michaelfuckinglangdon, @analogkraken, @mrsjellymunson, @kimmi-kat, @bakugouswh0r3, @sapphire4082, @trixyvixx, @wtf-lindsay, @mystra-midnight, @lonelysatellites, @trashmouth-richie,

[girlwithadragonheart]

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

1 ~ Wheel of Fortune, Reversed

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: The transition from living in Piltover to being cast to the Undercity is not a smooth one. Will anyone help you, or is it up to you to learn how to survive?

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Swearing, description of injury, mentions of blood, lots of fighting, thievery, description of starving, strong feelings of helplessness and desperation, hurt/comfort kinda

A/N: Guys I have been working on this for three days, and I plan to make this a series :3

Arcane Masterlist Part 2

Bad luck. Misfortune. Unforeseen setback. Disappointment. Mishap.

When the Wheel of Fortune is reversed, your luck and fortune may take a turn for the worst. You may experience unexpected change or negative forces could be at play, leaving you helpless. Change is inevitable. It’s up to you to decide what you do with it.

Changing your destiny starts with accepting responsibility for where you are now.

Scraped hands with bloody knees, your body ached and burned. Tears flooded your eyes as you fought to breathe. The bag that had been carelessly thrown over your shoulder sat in the dirt and ash of the half paved road. Your fists clenched against the rough road, and your chest tightened as you let out a guttural scream that sent rats skittering away and half-forgotten people drifting to the shadows.

The ground beneath you shook, rocks and pebbles rattling as your agony rang through the streets. A ragged sob broke past your lips.

What a cruel hand the cards had dealt you this time.

“All those in favor…?” 

In your mind’s eye you could still see as each councilor raised their hands. Rough fingers gripping your arms, protests falling upon deaf ears.

You tried to take a deep breath in, regaining some air into your lungs, but the very air was trying to choke you, trying to keep you from beloved oxygen. You knew the air in the Undercity was bad, you had no idea it was this dire.

Your body refused to draw breath, a coughing fit wracking through your frame. The white and gold dress you wore was covered in dirt, soot, and grime, the hem already fraying from your walk through these desolate streets. 

You pushed yourself up off the ground, stomach growling. You didn’t know how long you had been here. Time seemed to stand still, with the sky always being clouded and faintly green and gray. Your belly seemed to say it had been too long though, without food. 

“Well, what do we have here?” A scratchy voice called from the darkness. “Look at this, boys.” A scrawny boy with blonde hair walked into your vision, flanked by a larger one with brown hair and another with dark skin and coily black hair.

The brown haired boy grinned as he looked at you, crossing his arms. “A little lost princess come to play.”

“What’s in your bag, Princess? Anything valuable?” The blonde asked.

You scowled. “None of your fucking business.” You pulled your bag tighter against you on your shoulder. “Piss off, I’ve not had the day for this.”

“Such foul language from such pretty lips. I wonder if her teeth bite as well as her words,” the dark skinned boy smirked. 

“Come on, Princess, we just want a taste of the goods,” the blonde boy crooned, approaching you slowly. 

You took a step back, shifting your bag so that it was behind you. “There are no goods,” you said adamantly.

“Anything can be goods down here, sweetness.” The boy nodded subtly, looking just past you. 

A sharp tug on your bag had you stumbling back. You spun quickly, fist connecting with another boy’s jaw. He shouted in shock and you grunted from the pain of the impact of your knuckles on bone. 

“Get her!” The blonde boy ordered.

Another pair of hands landed on your shoulders, and you swung your arm, elbow knocking into the nose of one of your pursuers. You collapsed as one of them landed a swift kick against the back of your knee. You cried out as your already scraped knees dragged against the pavement. You flung your head back, connecting your skull to his most sensitive parts. A sharp squeal rang out as the boy collapsed. 

“You bitch!” He gritted through his teeth. 

Your momentary satisfaction was short-lived as your head was grabbed and your face slammed into someone’s knee. You screamed in pain as your nose cracked, and your vision blurred, eyes tearing up before everything went black.

“Miss?” A sweet soft voice called to you. “Miss, wake up.” A soft touch on your shoulder and a light shake pulled you from blessed darkness.

You sat up at your desk, looking into the soft green gaze of one of your students. You ran a hand through your hair, blinking the remaining sleep from your eyes, cheeks warming from embarrassment. “My apologies, Miss Jasmine. Can I help you?” 

Her thick lashes fell softly against her cheekbones as she looked down at the paper in her hands. Her curls bounced as she shook her head, “I’ll come back another time. Um…” 

She turned to leave, but you caught her wrist gently. “Let me see,” you gave her a soft smile.

She sighed hesitantly before handing you her paper. She had been working non stop on an essay for Professor Heimerdinger, wanting it to be perfect and she had asked if you would read over it and help her make any improvements needed. You knew she didn’t really need any help, her work was always excellent, and she was friends with both Jayce and Viktor who were also wonderful students. But you understood wanting the extra assuredness of another Professor’s approval.

Besides, it didn’t take anything extra for you to read over her work, and you were glad she trusted you to do so. Jasmine hadn’t had the best home growing up, or so you had heard in passing, so if she felt safe enough to approach you in this way, you were glad of it. 

Your fingers clutched the paper lightly as your eyes scanned over it. “This looks spectacular. The only thing I would consider is a transitional statement between these two paragraphs,” you point out the place to her. “But otherwise, this is amazing.”

She hummed, a furrow forming between her brows as she looked over it, “I think you’re right.” She pulled a red pen out of her pocket, scribbling some notes in between the paragraphs. “Thank you, Miss.”

“Of course, dear. Tell me, how are your studies going otherwise? Are you ready for the exam?” You asked. 

She sighed, “I think so. It feels like I have no time between studies and work; there's scarcely any time for me to sleep or eat.” She perched on the corner of your desk as she spoke. “And Viktor’s the same, throwing himself into his studies, we hardly have time to spend together.”

You tap your fingers against the desk in thought. “Perhaps it would benefit you both to study together? It’s often helpful to bounce thoughts and ideas off of a classmate or peer.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve just been so busy lately.”

“Make sure you’re taking the time to care for yourself as well, Jasmine. If you aren’t sleeping, you won’t retain any of your studies no matter how hard you work at them. Short term memory commits to long term through sleep, it is an essential part of any student’s life.”

“I know, I know,” she said, putting her hands up defensively. “Jade says the same thing.”

“I’m sure she does. How are they?” You ask, knowing Jasmine was the only one caring for her younger sibling.

“I think they’re doing okay. I can’t thank you enough for supporting them to live in the apartments with me,” she said gratefully.

“Of course. I know how difficult it is to support someone else while also chasing your dream. I am incredibly proud of you, you are a bright, intelligent, and compassionate young lady that has a wonderful future ahead of you.”

Her cheeks warmed at the praise, looking down at her lap. “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time. Enjoy grading,” she stood, waving as she left your classroom.

You smiled at her as she left, though a dull ache formed in the back of your head as you looked back down at the work in front of you. Your brows furrowed as your eyes focused on the scribbles across your students’ papers. The word ‘Traitor’ written in bold capital letters criss-crossed on the pages. 

Your vision blurred slightly, the throbbing in your head growing to be unbearable. The world went black as your head slammed into the desk in front of you.

You coughed and sputtered, a coppery taste in your mouth as you spat blood. Your vision swam, and you pressed a hand to your head, groaning. Your eyes squeezed shut as you waited for the urge to puke to abate. 

As soon as you could, you opened your eyes, looking around at the grimy streets of the Undercity. Fuck… You had almost hoped it was just a dream. But the sinking in your gut told you otherwise. You sat up, hissing as your scabbed knees pressed against the pavement, brushing pebbles off your front from your nap on the asphalt. 

You winced as you stood, gently brushing debris from your bloodied knees and sucking in a breath that had you coughing, lungs crying for clean air that you would likely never breathe again.

Your bag had been taken. The only thing left were your scattered tarot cards, littered in a puddle around you. You cursed, squatting down to collect them. The small bag you stored them in was also missing. 

You glanced around before pulling the band out of your hair and wrapping it securely around the cards, tucking them into your brassiere. Your stomach growled, drawing your attention to how empty it felt. Your body shook with weakness, and nausea clawed at you, begging you to eat something. 

But there was nothing here.

So you dragged yourself forward, step by unsteady step. The bastards stole your shoes as well. Your bare feet ached against the rough pavement, which was almost burning hot. What could produce this heat if the sun was hidden from this city? You didn’t know. You found you couldn’t care at the moment.

One of your shaking hands pressed against your gut as you walked, trying to find something, someone. You just wanted something to eat, to sink your teeth into. Gods, was this what turned men into beasts? Very well, a beast you would become if it meant you could find something to bloody eat in this place.

But oh, you were tired. So tired. And that rocky overhang in the distance looked like good shelter to sleep. You stumbled forward with tunnel vision, nearly collapsing by the time you reached it.

You didn’t know how long you slept. Minutes, hours, days? Time was irrelevant. All that you knew was insatiable hunger and an unquenchable thirst. You stayed under your little awning on your knees, palms cupped out in front of you, praying that passersby would spare something for you, anything. But nothing ever happened. No one came to your rescue. 

You had been hungry for so long you no longer remembered what it was like to be sated. Oh, what a luxury it had been to have a full meal and a night’s rest in the comfort of your home. Everything you had taken for granted had now been taken away, and all you had were your most basic instincts. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion, this endless cycle that continued day by day.

What even was a day anymore? The sun never shone, the stars were hidden behind the Gray, plunged to an eternal gloom in this horrible, awful place. Nights never ended, days never began. The only thing driving you was the clench of your stomach as you starved.

What had you done to deserve this?

(Changing your destiny starts with accepting responsibility for where you are now.)

Your alertness peaked as you heard a soft scuffling in the distance. A tiny squeak reached your ears, and you turned, careful to be dead silent as you moved.

There, not six feet away, was a rat. Your mouth watered before you could even think to be disgusted. With slow movements, you made your way toward the animal, keeping your breath shallow and quiet as you crept forward. Once you were a couple feet closer, you pounced, gripping the small creature, quickly snapping its neck as it squealed and fought your grip. 

It fell limp in your hands shortly before a force collided with you, knocking down down into the pavement. The rat fell from your fingers as a scrawny force darted for it. Moving quicker than you had in days, you rammed your shoulder into the redheaded man, seeing his cracked glasses slip down his nose from the impact. 

He landed in a squat, hands braced on the ground. You picked the rat up, throwing a glare in his direction, daring him to try and steal your food once again. He shrank away, slithering back to the recesses of the Undercity. 

You stood and your stomach growled loudly. The animal in your hands had already started to lose its warmth and go stiff between your fingers. Cooking it would take too long for your malnourished body, your mind told you. 

Only once the smell reached you did you shrivel in disgust. Is this what you had become? Once a proud Professor of Divination, turned to a beggar on the streets of the Undercity, resolved to eat rats as a meal once a goddamn week. 

Your nose scrunched as you brought it to your lips, once more reminded of how you longed for a meal. 

“I wouldn’t eat that, if I were you.” Your hands froze, gaze darting around. You watched as a man stepped out of the shadows. A very large man with a bag slung over his shoulder and heavy boots. He had brown salt and pepper hair with a beard to match, a round nose, and kind eyes. As you stared, his gaze fell over you, looking you up and down. You swore there was a moment of surprise in his gaze before he spoke again, voice gravelly with a hint of an accent you’d never heard. “Rats in this place carry more diseases than nutrients.”

You frowned. “Do you have a better idea, or do you just enjoy watching me suffer?” You spat.

“Come with me,” he jerked his head for you to follow.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” You questioned.

He leveled you with a flat stare. “Because you’ve got nothing to lose.”

You looked between the dead rat in your hands and the man in clean clothes—albeit it worn—and a kind gaze. Your brows furrowed. What did you have to lose? Was your life even counted among that anymore?

You looked down at your bare feet, scratched and dirty. Your torn clothes and bruised body frailer than you’d ever seen it. With a sigh, you threw the rat into the shadows, hearing scuttling feet. You vaguely hoped the redheaded man gets ahold of it for something to eat. 

You walked shakily over to the big man, and he walks with you in stride, shortening his steps so you don’t fall behind as he leads you… somewhere. 

“What’s your name?” You asked him quietly.

“Vander,” he said easily. “What about you?” He asked. You tell him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“It doesn’t matter where I’m from anymore,” you brushed him off. “Where are you taking me?” You questioned.

“To my bar. The Last Drop.” The mention of a bar had your stomach growling again. “When’s the last time you had a bite to eat?” Vander asked.

“I don’t know.”

He hummed, the rumble of his chest somehow putting you at ease. 

You had to squint as you approached a building with warm light spilling out of the windows, illuminating the street. Vander reached his free hand into his pocket, producing a keyring and unlocking the door, motioning for you to go in ahead of him. 

As soon as you stepped inside, you were embraced by the warmth of the place, soft music playing in the background as you looked around. It was nice. Especially compared to everything you had seen so far. What you had endured. 

“It’s… cozy,” you said quietly as Vander stepped behind the bar, setting the bag down on the floor.

“Welcome to The Last Drop. My own little slice of Heaven.” He motioned for you to sit, so you did, as he placed a glass in front of you and filled it with water from a bottle. “Don’t chug it or you’ll make yourself sick,” he scolded.

You bring it toward your dry, cracked lips, drinking it gratefully. It eases some of the ache in your throat, the tightness in your chest and the sheer desperation you’d been feeling for the last several days.

With a speed and grace you’d never expected, Vander slaps together a sandwich, sliding it over to you. “You’ll have to eat light for a few days,” he warned as you took a bite.

Your eyes filled with tears as you chewed and swallowed. It was better than anything you’d ever had in your life, or at least it felt that way. You sniffled as you ate, tears dripping down your cheeks. If Vander noticed, he didn’t call you on it.

You wanted to savor this moment, but your body demanded otherwise as you wolfed down your food and finished your water. You wiped the tears from your face, looking up at the man with wide eyes. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “The bedroom and bathroom are upstairs, if you’ll let me have a look at those scrapes and bruises,” he told you.

“You’ve already done so much, I couldn’t—”

“You see those?” He cut you off, looking up to the right. When you follow his gaze, you see a massive pair of cast iron gauntlets hanging up. “I know how to handle a scratch or two. It’s no trouble.”

You looked from the gauntlets back to him, thinking for a moment. “Alright.”

He led you upstairs, a hand on the small of your back to steady you as you wobbled. You came to a room with a massive bed and a small closet. Through a curtain beyond it was a bathroom.

“Have a bath, then we can see to your wounds,” Vander told you, grabbing a shirt from his closet and holding it out to you. “You can borrow this until we get that dress clean.” You carefully took it from him. “Just shout if you need anything, alright?”

You nodded, barely able to form any words as he left the room. You carefully laid the shirt on the bed, stripping out of your ruined dress and moving to the bathroom. You set your cards on the small shelf beside the tub. Turning the faucet, you let the bath fill as warm as you could get the water until steam filled the room.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and regretted looking. Your skin was filthy, covered in dirt and grime. You had a black eye and various cuts and bruises across your arms, legs, and face. Your hair was greasy and laid almost flat.

Your lip curled in disgust as you stepped into the tub, hissing as the water hit your various scrapes. There was a bar of soap and a well-loved bottle of shampoo that you were grateful for. You recognized the scents from Vander, though they were missing the undertone of smoke and leather.

You tried to be as gentle as you could when you scrubbed your skin, wincing every time you rubbed a bruise the wrong way and feeling your scrapes sting from contact. But no matter how soft you wanted to touch, you scrubbed your skin almost raw, trying to eliminate all the dirt from your body.

It didn’t matter how much it hurt, you felt disgusting.

You scrubbed your fingers through your hair and over your scalp, trying to remove all the oil, grease, and dirt that had built up over the last several days. You scrubbed thoroughly until your fingers brushed a knot on your head. You touched the spot gingerly, flinching from how tender it was. You cursed under your breath as you finished washing up gently. 

The water was black and brown by the time you stepped out, grabbing a hanging towel to dry off. You scrunched your hair over the edge of the tub before using the towel to dry it more thoroughly. It would still be wet for hours, most likely, but at least now you were less likely to drip water everywhere.

You gently patted yourself dry, wrapping the towel around you and moving back to the bedroom. You felt better about picking up Vander’s shirt now, not worried about soiling it with your touch. The cotton was soft, no doubt from years of wear.

Slowly, you slipped it over your head, doing another pat-dry over your wounds with the towel before hanging it back up in the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your skin finally visible without the layers of dirt covering it. Your hair shone with the water that had soaked it. Vander’s shirt fell to your knees, the neckline wide enough for your collarbones to show. You had never looked so bony in your life. You glanced at the bundle of cards on the shelf, staring at them for a moment before flicking off the light and moving back downstairs.

Vander had taken a seat at one of the tables in the bar downstairs, a First Aid kit open in front of him. He spotted you and smiled, even as you moved with tension in every fiber of your being.

“Being clean suits you,” he jested, easing some of the tension from your shoulders. His gaze wandered down to your feet and back up, jerking his head to the side in silent request for you to join him. “Let’s have a look at those scrapes.”

With silent steps, you moved to where he was seated, pushing yourself up to sit on the table, making sure the shirt covered you properly. Vander’s hand was warm as he gently held your ankle, fingers wrapping all the way around it as he inspected the scrapes on your feet.

“Bastards stole my boots,” you chuckled nervously, looking around at the walls of the bar.

“Vi has a pair you can borrow,” Vander said. “This’ll sting a bit,” he warned before gently dapping your scraped with antiseptic. 

You hissed. It did sting, but his touch was gentle, his thumb stroking over your ankle soothingly as though he had done this a million times. “Who’s Vi?” You asked, distracting yourself as he worked on your wounds.

“My daughter,” he said without missing a beat, moving to your other foot. “I have two girls,” he told you. “Powder, and her older sister Violet—she prefers Vi. They share a room downstairs.”

After disinfecting your knees, he slapped bandaids over them. You fiddled with your hands in your lap. “Listen, I… I really appreciate this, but I can’t repay you.”

“Can you work?” He asked, looking up beneath his brows.

You loosed a breath. “Yeah, I can.”

He shrugged. “Then that’s all you need to do.”

You sighed, exasperated. “Why?” You questioned.

“Why what?” He pressed, taking one of your hands to clean properly.

Your cheeks warm and you look away. “Why are you helping me?”

Again, he shrugged. “You’re not from the Undercity, but now you are, which means you’re part of my people. My people help each other.” He said it so simply, but it was so wildly baffling to you after what you had endured.

He put away the First Aid supplies, leaving you for a moment to think about his words. When he returns, you slide down from your seat on the table. 

“You take the bed tonight. I’ll crash with the kids,” he told you easily.

You learned to stop arguing. If he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. That’s what you had learned about Vander so far.

“Thank you, Vander,” you bowed your head to him. He bade you good night before heading down the stairs behind the bar, leaving you to make your own way to bed.

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[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Day Six of Bucktommy Fluffebruary had Stargazing as a prompt, and what was supposed to be a cut to a trip turned into an immediate transition into porn. The porn is silly and fluffy, but...look, I tried to keep this all PG. But sometimes you just gotta fuck that fireman, also I wrote this a few weeks ago and it was too late to rewrite it when I finally looked at it again. @bucktommyfluffebruary I'm so sorry.

They’re having a beer on the back step, and Evan keeps looking at the sky and squinting.

“What’s up?” Tommy teases.

“I think I can see part of Orion’s Belt?” Evan says, squinting harder. “Or that’s a plane.”

Tommy tries to follow his gaze and doesn’t see much of anything other than a few sparse clouds and some airplanes. “Could be.”

“I think the only time I ever lived somewhere where you could see the stars was when I was on the ranch,” he says, settling back in his chair. “Chris was telling me if they go right outside El Paso they can see everything.”

“Mm.” Tommy takes a sip of beer and considers the sky for a moment. “I think the clearest sky I ever saw was in Iraq and definitely didn’t appreciate it at the time.”

“Well, there was other stuff going on,” Evan points out, and Tommy nods. “But you don't get to see them when you're outside LA? Or in the sky?”

“Mm, a little, but I don't think I take the time to appreciate it then either,” Tommy says, resting his cheek on Evan's shoulder. “I like looking at the city when I'm up, though.”

“Yeah,” Evan agrees, sounding dreamy and happy. Tommy's taken him up a few times, and his favorite part is watching Evan take in the twinkling lights of the city at night or the glow of a sunset. “We should go somewhere.”

Tommy smiles, having seen it coming from a mile away. “Yeah. Maybe around your birthday?”

He’s already making plans in his head, because Evan’s birthday is in three weeks. They’d gotten a few days off together, but that hadn’t been a sure thing until this week, so no plans had been made.

“In the meantime, I think I can make you see some stars,” he says, glancing up at his boyfriend just in time to see his eyebrows twitch upward and his cheeks flush.

“You’re a smooth guy, Tommy Kinard,” Evan says, setting his beer down before swinging his leg over Tommy’s lap and settling in it. “Think you can make it happen?”

Tommy’s hands hike up the back of his shirt so he can spread them across the back of his ribcage, and his eyes are trained on Evan’s lips. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

Evan leans in and licks his bottom lip before backing off, and Tommy tries to kiss him, but Evan keeps moving just out of reach. He tightens his hold on him and pulls him forward until his body is flush against Tommy’s and latches onto his neck instead.

“Fuck,” Evan groans, rocking against his stomach. He grips Tommy’s hair and presses him closer until Tommy’s sucking a bruise low on the side of his neck. “C’mon.”

There’s a bit of mental calculation to avoid completely fucking up his back before Tommy can stand with Evan wrapped around him. When he gets them inside, he makes a beeline for their room and lays Evan on the bed, kissing his pretty, whining mouth as he undoes the tie on his basketball shorts.

He strips himself and then Evan quickly, craving the feeling of their bare skin pressed together. When he covers Evan’s body with his own to kiss him again, he sighs against his mouth when Evan wraps his arms and legs around him. But when he starts to lift himself up, Evan’s still holding on, so Tommy just sort of…lifts him off the mattress while he's on all fours. He breaks the kiss and looks down at his boyfriend incredulously.

“Are you koala-ing me right now?” he asks, laughing. He scoops his hands under Evan, and sure enough, there's space between his back and the mattress.

“I didn't think it would actually work,” Evan admits, looking over his shoulder. He's only a couple inches from the mattress, but he's also got a death grip on Tommy. “Kind of feeling like the dog that got the car right now.”

They both start giggling so hard that Tommy ends up collapsing on him again, and when he tries to roll onto his side, Evan’s still holding him.

“Oh, my god,” Tommy gasps between giggles. Evan’s shaking against him, his face completely red where it's smashed into the duvet to stifle his laughter.

It doesn't kill the mood, but it shifts it. Neither one of them can hold onto the other one without it turning into endless giggling, and Evan ends up starfishing on his belly, which is worse. He looks ridiculous, and Tommy ends up curled over his back with his face pressed against the back of his ribcage to muffle his laughter. Evan’s back bounces under his face when that starts to set him off.

“I'm sorry,” Tommy wheezes, rolling to sit upright. “I-I can't.”

Evan rises up to kneel next to him, and Tommy smiles into the kiss that's pressed against his mouth. He looks down at Evan’s still hard dick and raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” Evan asks defensively, flopping back onto the pillows. “I can multitask.”

“Is getting the giggles and staying hard at the same time ‘multitasking’?” Tommy asks, crawling over him and kissing his chest. 

“I mean, it's at least kind of impressive,” Evan argues, drawing a knee up when Tommy settles between his legs. “Right?”

“Extremely,” Tommy agrees seriously, and Evan sticks his tongue out at him.

“Did that kill the mood?” Evan asks when Tommy's mouth is centimeters from his dick.

Tommy looks at his dick and then back up at Evan's face. “I mean, I was about to choke myself on your dick, so—”

Evan shifts under him, which bumps the head of his dick against Tommy's chin. On any other night, it'd be a little hot. Tonight? 

“Oh, my god,” Evan whines when Tommy giggles against his thigh.

“You started it!” Tommy protests when Evan covers his face with his hands. “Aw, baby.”

Except Evan isn’t embarrassed, he’s hiding a big grin like a liar. Tommy pulls his hands away to reveal it and kisses him.

“I'll skip the blowjob,” Tommy decides. “Because I don't want to accidentally bite you.”

Evan peeks between his fingers and looks down at Tommy's half hard cock. “Do you want me to—”

“Oh, I'll be fine,” Tommy says, stretching for the nightstand and grabbing the lube. He slicks Evan up, gets on his knees, reaches back to press two fingers into himself, and straddles his lap. “I think I owe you some stars.”

“Y-yeah,” Evan agrees, watching raptly as Tommy positions himself over his cock. When Tommy starts to sink down on him, sparks shooting up his spine at the perfect stretch, Evan’s head falls back against the headboard with a soft thump, and he swears under his breath. “Holy shit, Tommy.”

Tommy rocks down onto him, his eyelids fluttering shut at the stretch and fullness. He lifts himself off until just the head is clenched inside him and reaches back to spread more lube on Evan. When he sinks down again, the extra slide brings his ass all the way to the cradle of Evan’s pelvis, and he rocks with a moan.

“Fuck,” Evan gasps, thrusting up minutely. He grips Tommy's hip and thigh and sits up to kiss him, flicking his tongue against Tommy's. When Tommy starts riding him, Evan gasps against his mouth and pulls back to look down at their hips. His brows draw together, and his lips part, shiny and so pink. He fucks up into Tommy, meeting his thrusts, and Tommy tries his best to clench rhythmically on a slow pull out. It's a trick he's pulled off with less endowed guys, but Evan is thick enough that he's not sure it'll work until Evan is crying out against his shoulder. 

“Stars?” Tommy asks, cradling his face and smiling when Evan’s gaze drops to his mouth as he nods slowly. “God, you feel amazing, sweetheart.”

Evan smiles back and grinds into him. “So do you. I love you so fucking much.”

Tommy presses his forehead against Evan’s and pants, “Fuck, I love you.”

Evan’s arms go around his waist, holding him tight once more, but it doesn't set off another round of laughter, because he's holding Tommy in place so he can fuck into him like a goddamn machine. Tommy feels like he can't catch his breath, he's leaking against Evan’s torso and his brain is whiting out while Evan fucks him so hard that he can barely hold himself up. He ends up clinging to Evan and crying out into his shoulder and neck until he's being rocked onto Evan's cock nice and slow. 

Phantom aftershocks of an orgasm that hasn't hit yet make him twitch against Evan, and the world goes sideways for a minute when he gets lowered onto his back. 

“I'm s’posed to be doing the work,” he protests weakly.

Evan feeds his cock back into Tommy and fucks into him in one smooth stroke, ripping a moan out of Tommy’s chest. 

“You're out of your mind if you think I'm not seeing stars right now, baby,” Evan pants, driving into him. “You feel so fucking perfect.”

He folds Tommy up and drills into him until Tommy can't do much more than writhe under him and let out a series of cries that are completely involuntary. Sweat drips onto him from Evan’s face, but he doesn't slow down.

“I'm gonna cum,” Tommy gasps, grabbing at Evan's shoulders. When Evan still doesn't slow down, Tommy sobs through his orgasm and slaps a hand over his mouth reflexively. Evan shakes his head until Tommy lifts it away, and he convulses when Evan keeps going. “Holy fuck, f-fuck, I can't—Evan.”

His boyfriend's name comes out on a whine, and Evan drives into him one last time with a grunt, grinding into Tommy as his cock pulses cum into him.

They end up collapsed together, and Evan’s shaking against him. Tommy grips his body tighter with his arms around him, and then Evan shakes even more, and he realizes it's with laughter.

“Now you're doing it,” Evan says against his neck.

Tommy snorts. “If you think I can hold onto you that tight right now, you're high.”

Evan carefully pulls out of him and kisses him sweetly before going to the bathroom and opening the linen cabinet. Tommy floats for a bit while Evan waits for the faucet to warm, and he smiles when a warm, damp washcloth is wiped over his inner thighs. 

“Still wanna go stargazing?” he asks, blinking at his boyfriend. 

“Yep,” Evan says, coming in for another kiss. “But this works until then.”

Tommy twitches when the washcloth gets swiped over his belly and cock. “I think flying a helicopter might be less taxing. Seriously, I think you'll break my pelvis if you try something like that in thirty years.”

Evan grins and nuzzles his cheek before kissing him again. “Seventy-year-old Tommy can take it.”

“Can sixty-three-year-old Evan?”

“I'll just have to keep up on my leg day workouts,” Evan says with a cheeky smile. “We're gonna be the hottest retirees in LAFD history, babe.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, but his stomach flutters in a decidedly juvenile way at the foregone conclusion that they'll still be together in thirty years and just as in love and just as into each other. When Evan kisses him again, he likes to think he can feel an answering flutter. 

–

[goblinpuppy35]

Paw Prints in Fresh Soil

(Previous Chapter) - Part 8 - (Next Chapter)

Professor Remus x Male Reader

Summary: While teaching at Hogwarts Professor Lupin tries his best to conceal his strong crush for the green fingered grounds keeper Y/N but soon a strong friendship blooms into something more.

CW: 18 YEAR OLDS + ONLY: Long chapter with A LOT of smut

------------------------------------------

Remus was unable to hide his flushed cheeks and gleeful smile throughout the rest of the teaching day. His students simply assumed he was in a particularly good mood that day. The Professor religiously checked the time after every class, assessing how long he had to wait before seeing Y/N again. He could still taste the wet fabric of Y/N's pre cum stained boxers on his lips. It made the wolf inside him feral. 

Once teaching concluded for the day Remus eagerly returned to his chambers. Despite lust filling his head Remus was suddenly overwhelmed by the concern of hosting and began to quickly clean scattered books and papers off the floor and table. Then in an attempt to set the mood the Professor brought out a number of candles, placing them around the room and lighting them accordingly. Afterwards Remus lit the fire and then looked around the room satisfied, the low amber glow around him vividly reminded him of taking care of Y/N's cold body during his recovery. 

Remus attempted to preoccupied himself as he waited for Y/N by laying on the sofa half heartedly flicking through one of his books. This distraction only worked temporarily as the thought of what if Y/N would be hungry on arrival entered Remus' mind. Panickily he hurried to his small kitchen. Similar to his poison skills, his cooking abilities were extremely limited and lacking. As Remus frantically tried to figure out why the eggs he was trying to scramble were producing storm clouds of smoke from the pan, he failed to notice the latch of his door quietly opening and Y/N entering the room.

Remus was completely oblivious to Y/N's presents until the groundskeepers fingers slipped passed Remus' to take hold of the frying pan. Remus' surprise was promtly replaced with relief and then embarrassment as he let Y/N save what was left of his scrambled eggs which took on more of the apprentice of scrambled charcoal. Sitting on the candle lit floor by the fire Y/N insisted on eating the least burnt parts of Remus' disastrous meal, insisting it wasn't that bad. Remus laughed and watched Y/N, his long arm stretch across the sofa that their backs were resting against. His hand on Y/N's shoulder Remus rubbed his thumb up and down the fabric of the groundskeepers shirt tentatively. The contact between them felt so natural. 

Although both men knew exactly what they had came here for, as the night progressed the pair stayed in each other's arms talking. Y/N told Remus about his transition and how he struggled connecting to his family because of it, "They never planned to have a Muggle child, let alone a queer son" Y/N said pensively, looking into the fire. He then turned back and smiled warmly at Remus, "It's okay though, I manage" his words were genuine but Remus could still see sadness behind Y/Ns handsome eyes. Remus squeezed Y/N shoulder lovingly and pulled him in closer. 

Midnight came and went as the men talked relentlessly, as Y/N continued to tell Remus about his life the weary Professor found himself equally opening up. He told Y/N about his affliction and the toll it put on his body every month. He talked about how he often felt a great deal of guilt and shame for the way he was. With each personal secret of their lives they shared with one another their emotional bond grew as well as thier physical proximity, by the time the last fire embers extinguished themselves Y/N was curled up in-between Remus' open legs. Their hands weaved around one another like ivy up and old stone wall. Gently Remus kisses Y/Ns ear and whispered "Shall we go to bed?", looking up towards the Professor, Y/N nodded. They walked to the bedroom hand in hand. Their eyes slowly adjusted to the dark as they watched one another start to remove their clothes. Deep conversations about everything and nothing flowed between the pair again once they were laying on their sides facing one another, just in their underwear. Y/N explained which parts of his body were still sensitive after surgery and in general how he preferred being treated in bed to not feel dysphoric. Additionally Remus told Y/N which parts of his own body where most fragile, showing which scars had healed poorly.

Both men were not sure when they'd drifted off to sleep but the comfort of being engulfed in each other's arms was too tranquil to resist. Early morning owl cries woke Y/N up from the deepest sleep he felt he'd had in a life time. The room was still completely dark. Y/N had rolled to his opposite side, with his back against Remus' front, the taller man's arms were cradling Y/N and he could feel Remus' hot exhaling breathes in the crook of his neck. Considering he was a light sleeper Y/N appreciated the fact Remus didn't snore. As Y/N wiggled his body to get my comfort he felt his back press further into Remus, who's peaceful breathing suddenly got lower. Y/N moved a little more and felt the small of his back push against Remus' crotch, he was noticeable hard and the sensation made Y/N blush. Remus' lower breathing grew into a deep growl, his body shifted and then his grip tightened around Y/N.

"I'm sorry.. did I wake you? Sorry" breathed Y/N unsuccessfully hiding how flustered and arose he was becoming, Remus pushed his body closer to his. "Don't be" Remus' voice rumbled through Y/Ns ear and made his body shake. Y/N's limbs suddenly felt limp and stupid as Remus' hand slowly pulled down Y/N's boxers and then his own. Even in the darkness Y/N could feel Remus' impressive length resting against his leg, a small wet patch at the end. Tenderly kissing Y/N's shoulder Remus positioned himself then carefully began to enter Y/N from behind. Hums passed through Y/N's pressed lips which turned to whimpers as he became overwhelmed with the sheer sensational volume his body was feeling. "Hold onto me pup" Remus' low sleep filled voice said softly, "It's alright, I've got you". These sincere words followed by blankets of kisses up his neck helped relax Y/N, his forearms gripping onto the strong arms wrapped around him, as he loosened his tense body he could feel Remus' whole cock fully inside him, it was enough to make Y/N's brain fully switch off. 

"That's my boy" Remus huffed rocking his body and guiding Y/N's to do the same "your doing so well... god You feel amazing". The room was silent except for the steady creaking of the wooden bed frame and both men's heated moans. The air was filled with privacy and intimate passion. "Y/N.. are you okay, dose it feels good for you?" Remus asked between pants feeling himself getting harder inside of the smaller man. Having seemingly lost the ability to talk Y/N took hold of one of Remus' hands and delicately pulled it down his own body, reaching his thighs he pulled apart to folds to reveal his throbbing cock tip to Remus. The Professor's breathing paused momentarily as he felt how large and stimulated Y/N's cock was. A new pleasure swept across Remus' body now he could tell how turned on Y/N was. "I ... I" Y/N was barely able to whisper while he showed Remus' fingers how to rub against his tip "I want you to make me cum AH" before Y/N finished his request Remus took to for filling it. Coating with thumb and forefinger with Y/N's precum he slowly started to rub Y/N's erection, taking note how even the slightest touch down there made Y/N's back arch . "With pleasure my love" Remus cooed before thrusting his hips harder behind Y/N.

Y/N very rarely let himself fully go in any situation, even when he was alone. Yet Remus was sending every fibre of skin he had alight. His throbbing cock ached spectacularly from Remus' meticulous touch, he knew he was going to cum soon. Remus' body was having the same reaction to Y/N and as the groundskeeper widened his leg span, giving Remus more space, his pleasure tipped over the edge. "Fuck Y/N I'm" was all Remus could announce before overflowing feelings of ecstasy escaped his body. Y/N was getting drunk feeling all of Remus' inside him. Extending his high Remus continued to pump Y/N slower but with harder thrusts, his own body starting to buck. These sharp movements were too much for Y/N "Oh Christ Remus .. I'm ..I'm. Fuck. I'm going to scream. Please stop me". Swiftly Remus lifted up his free hand and clasped it fully over Y/N's trembling mouth, pulling his head back slightly. Remus' other hand stayed on Y/N's cock as he synchronized his hip thrusts to his wrist jerk. The hand gag seemed to have the opposite affect on Y/N for each muffled moan came quicker after the others and became more desperate. Even though his own high was fading Remus was loving this display and pure lust and with each moan from Y/N he tighter his grip over his mouth and tilted his head back further. Suddenly Y/N's body stopped squirming, become unbelievably still and tense as he let out a muffled moan which sounded as if he was crying. His body arched and then rubbed against Remus' fingers enthusiastically, at which point Remus felt warm cum over his fingers. He waited until Y/N had finished rocking and then withdraw his fingers to his open mouth, licking around his knuckles he devoured Y/N's taste. "You taste beautiful" Remus whispered causing Y/N to shake and twitch now Remus had pulled out. Y/N shock so hard he made the mattress quiver so Remus sitting up, scoped Y/N in between his legs and pulled the blankets up to wrapped around both their shoulders. Shushing and petting the younger man's Y/H/C hair Remus kissed his warm cheeks "You were perfect Y/N". 

"Some .. Sometimes I get .. I .. very non verbal after.. af" Y/N jittered through his wobbling lip. Caressing Y/Ns hand Remus kissed it gently, "That's okay" He reassured, "as long as you are okay?". Y/N smiled and nodded, snuggling into Remus cosy embrace. After a moment of peaceful recovery Remus asked "Shall we both get cleaned up and then go back to bed?". Y/N nodded again and was about to gingerly make his way off the bed but gasped in surprise as his weight lifted off the sheets. Supported by Remus' arms the Professor carried Y/N to the bathroom, switching the light on with his elbow. Both men couldn't stop bashfully smiling at each other. 

[softonstyles]

Part One

Word Count: 2.1K

Aurora Rivera was not one to easily rile, save for two things she simply could not stand.

The first of the two was the relentless art of packing, a phrase she had penned for its ability to make her feel like a tortured artist. 

And really, who could blame her?

You, too, would feel the same if your entire childhood, your most formative years, were spent moving from one place to another with no end in sight.

Besides, it wasn’t the physical aspect of packing that bothered her. If anything, it appealed to her innate desire for order. There was something methodical, almost meditative, about organizing her belongings; aligning materials and fabrics into their proper place, each neatly folded piece bringing a quiet sense of accomplishment.

No, what unsettled her most was what packing signified: the careful selection of what to bring with you, and the quiet finality of what to leave behind. 

And in her twenty-six years, Aurora had never been good at leaving things behind.

(Because, if you asked her – who, or what, could be appointed the keeper of such things? When was it determined to let go, to walk away? It seemed to her that decisions like these demanded the utmost care, yet were often made in moments of haste.)

The second was unpacking, an inevitable consequence of the former.

And at this very moment, she was in the thick of it — arms deep in a cardboard graveyard of coats and jackets past.

With the ease of someone who had done this more times than she cared to admit, Aurora surfaced; two jackets in each hand, a small cloud of dust trailing behind her. It had been two years since she last opened this box, packed away during her post-college move — when she reluctantly traded Colorado’s crisp mountain air for New Mexico’s dry heat, where her family had settled in recent years.

Another difficult transition.

Swallowing a sigh, Aurora focused on carefully hanging the two jackets she planned to keep, draping the others over her bed. It might have been mid-August in Vermont (especially if the humidity coming in through her open window had anything to say about it), but fall would be here soon enough. The colder seasons in this state were rumored to be unforgiving, and while she liked to be prepared, four jackets felt excessive when two would comfortably suffice.

Her brown eyes wandered to the untouched donation pile in the corner. With her lease signed for the next three years, there was more than enough time for clutter to creep in and take over. She had to stay ahead of it now, before the semester began and her packed schedule left no room to manage it later.

After a prolonged internal debate, she hung the remaining jackets beside the others in her closet. She assured herself it had nothing to do with the reluctance to let things go — no, Aurora was simply being practical. After all, her roommate should have the chance to go through them first.

And if her roommate didn’t want them? Well, that would be. . . fine. 

She would just donate them.

Probably.

The pile would be sorted out by the end of the process.

Eventually.

Speaking of said roommate, Aurora pulled out her phone to check for any updates. It was already 11:33 A.M., despite her roommate’s confident declaration last night that she would arrive ‘bright and early’ at 11:00 A.M. With no missed notifications in sight, she shook her head with a knowing smile.

Classic Char.

It appeared that some things never changed.

And sometimes, that was for the best.

Charlotte Styles’ quirks — vastly different from her own — were comforting in their familiarity. This would be the first time Aurora lived with someone she previously knew and trusted outside of her family, making the move feel less daunting.

Their friendship stretched back four years, to the day they first met in their sorority. Aurora, then a junior, had matched as a ‘big’ to Charlotte, a cheerful freshman she quickly took under her wing. 

Despite their differences (and there were many), their bond had been seamless. Charlotte had a way of pulling Aurora out of her comfort zone and into a world of excitement, while Aurora instinctively kept Charlotte grounded when her enthusiasm threatened to run wild. 

Over the years, Charlotte became the younger sister she never had but always wanted. Sure, her antics sometimes resembled those of Aurora’s seventeen-year-old brother — but that only made Charlotte all the more endearing.

Charlotte turned to Aurora for advice on everything — school, career, relationships.

And Aurora never turned her away.

Now, here they were — or would be, once Charlotte arrived – standing at the start of something new: Aurora embarking on a doctorate in physical therapy, and Charlotte launching into an MBA program.

It was a rare thing, she thought, to move forward while keeping an important part of your past close.

The thought was warm enough to dull the yawn creeping up her throat. Two days on the road from New Mexico to Vermont had left her, any last reserves of energy dissipating somewhere between endless highways and a restless first night in the apartment. She had planned to wait for Charlotte before venturing out for coffee, but the temptation of collapsing amid unpacked boxes was becoming harder to resist.

With a renewed determination, Aurora reached for a claw clip and twisted her curls into a messy bun. It was only a matter of time before the summer heat undid her efforts, but for now, it gave her a small sense of control. Pocketing her keys, she stepped out onto the sunlit street.

Last night, while navigating unfamiliar roads, Aurora noticed a coffee shop several blocks away from their place. Now, she retraced her steps through the picturesque streets with hopeful precision. She and Charlotte had been fortunate to secure their charming, if snug, apartment in the city’s historic district — a find they had finalized less than a month before. 

Since then, Aurora had dedicated herself to curating a list of places (mainly craft and antique stores) she was eager to explore. Charlotte, a Vermont native, was already acquainted with most of the places on Aurora’s list. Yet, she embraced Aurora’s enthusiasm and indulged in each suggestion as if it were a new discovery. Charlotte had even reviewed the list with genuine interest, offering practical, budget-friendly alternatives to some of the more expensive options.

Despite her occasional lack of tact, Aurora held a deep admiration for Charlotte’s kindness and natural generosity. It was a quality that had defined their friendship from the start. On their sorority’s reveal day, while other “bigs” presented their “littles” with extravagant gifts, Charlotte had been delighted by Aurora’s modest but heartfelt offerings. She was filled with apprehension at first, but her worries dissolved when Charlotte’s smile radiated with sincerity.

Lost in thought, Aurora nearly walked past the coffee shop, only stopping when its pastel sign — Cozy’s — caught her eye against the rustic street. She stepped inside, relieved to escape the oppressive heat. 

The line moved at a leisurely pace, giving her plenty of time to peruse the foreign menu unhurriedly. The menu behind the register was a visual delight, its chalk script meandering across the board in alluring strokes. She briefly wondered if the person responsible was part of the art program at her new school. 

Aurora appreciated the tasteful details — and even more, the reasonable prices they spelled out. Caught between the comfort of a regular brew and the indulgence of an iced latte, her indecision was interrupted by the barista’s lively announcement.

“. . . And for just one dollar and seventy-five cents more, you can add one of today’s bakery specials to your order: a lemon blueberry tart, or olive oil bundt cake.”

She would not pass that up. And the choice was clear, too (an olive oil bundt cake, of course). Sweet, but subtle.

The patron ahead of her wavered, the delay only noticeable when the person behind Aurora exhaled an audible sigh of impatience. How rude. A pang of sympathy stirred within her. Few sensations were as unpleasant as feeling rushed.

On impulse, she leaned forward and offered gently, “I think the olive oil bundt cake is a good choice. It’s light and pairs well with most anything.”

The words slipped from Aurora’s lips before she had time to second-guess them, surprising even herself. She wasn’t the type to strike up conversations with strangers, but something about the moment, the quiet strain in the customer’s hesitation, compelled her.

No one deserved to feel pressured, least of all in a place meant to be comforting.

They were in a coffee shop called Cozy’s, for goodness sake.

Aurora’s reverie shattered when the stranger ahead turned, his gaze locking with hers in a moment of deliberate intensity. The mere sight of him — an unexpected embodiment of poise and understated charm — stilled her breath. She absorbed every detail of his presence, and it was clear that he was doing the same.

Tall and composed, he exuded a compelling sense of command from his broad shoulders. But something else was there, too. Subtle lines etched around piercing green eyes spoke of lived experiences, yet they retained a spark of youthful intrigue. Those warm, inquisitive eyes lingered on hers longer than expected, hinting at a connection that defied explanation.

“Whatever you say,” he murmured at last, his voice low and smooth – a cascade of syllables that wrapped around her like a slow-burning ember, catching fire.

This felt intimate.

She felt exposed.

Aurora could only blink as her composure began to fade away, away. . .

Conscious of her continued gaze, she felt unanchored in his presence. She searched for something clever to say in response — something to say at all — but all logic escaped, and with it, her capacity for coherent speech. 

And then it clicked: his hesitation wasn’t due to pressure or indecision. No, he was clearly the kind of man who took his time — measured, thorough, talking you through it. . . and she really needed to stop thinking about that now.

Clearing his throat, he faced the barista again. “Two of the olive oil bundt cakes, please,” he ordered, then flashed Aurora a breathtaking smile. “One for me, and the other for the helpful young woman behind me.”

Between the sugar, her upcoming doctorate program, and now him — none of it could be good for her health.

A deep flush crept from Aurora’s neck to her face. It was unusual for her to react this way over a simple act of kindness, but something about him — the way he looked at her — dissolved her usual composure. She clung to it now, trying to steady herself.

“Oh,” Aurora said softly, “that’s generous, but you really don’t have to —”

He was already facing her again, extending a light blue bag with the treat nestled inside. The cool metal of his silver rings brushed against her warm palm as he handed it over.

Absolutely not good for her health.

“Please, I insist,” he said, his smile broadening. “It’s my way of thanking you for the expert pairing advice.”

Not good, downright bad for her health.

“Well, thank you,” she replied with a nervous laugh. “And you’re welcome, I guess.”

As he moved back to let Aurora approach the counter, she could still feel the weight of his gaze on her. It wasn’t intrusive, but rather a soft focus that seemed to draw her in. That was precisely the reason she couldn’t turn around, afraid of losing herself in it again. 

“May I please have a medium iced latte?” she remained planted in place, resisting the urge to look back over her shoulder.

Would he still be there, waiting?

And even if he was, what would she possibly say or do?

The torrent of thoughts racing through Aurora’s head made her feel foolish. He was just a stranger — a kind one, yes — but a stranger nonetheless.

Yet, that didn’t lessen the sting of disappointment when she collected her order, turned around, and found. . . no one.

Cozy’s was quieter now; the line shorter, chatter subdued. Her eyes scanned the room once, twice, hoping to see him again. She shook her head, took a sip of her latte, and let out a bitter laugh at the absurdity of it all.

It appeared that Aurora Rivera was not one to easily rile, save now for three things.

(Part Two)

[deadhands69]

By a Thread part 3

Tomura Shigaraki x Witch Reader

fluff inspired by the prompt: "listening to the other's heartbeat" thanks for sending it anon, sorry this one took a while to update! I usually try to keep things relatively blank/fill in your own info for a lot of x reader but at some point that becomes really boring or difficult to write. in this case, the dog didn't have a name initially but after editing this, she does now because this part is pretty dog heavy and there are only so many times of saying "the dog" before it sounds less like an included character and more like some rando dog that you barely know and don't care about. so anyways, her name is Hazel like witch hazel! (both for the name + Tomura finds her soothing)

[previous] [series masterlist]

Spring has fully taken off, which means you've been here for weeks now.

The transition to moving in with Tomura went smoother than expected. Not only do you have your own bedroom with a door and everything, you now have fancier furniture than you know what to do with. 

Sure, you had a bed in your cottage but it was hard and rustically made, to put it nicely. It’s all you ever knew before this though, so you were used to it. This one is wool that you sink softly into. The sheets are soft and smooth against your skin. Every night, you’ve had dreams about sleeping in a cloud – which makes sense, you basically are.

Even Tomura’s chairs are nicer, plushy where yours weren't. It's taken you some time to get used to the luxuries, but Hazel has adapted fast – not wasting any time before cozying into her own small bed placed in your room. 

Of course, there is still so much you miss about your cottage. 

Your belongings. Your garden. The warmth of your small space. Particularly on windy nights like tonight when the old house holds a draft that can't be easily quelled. The window sashes shake against the force of the salty air coming off the ocean.

You’re happy to have somewhere safe to be though, in spite of it all. 

Living with another person has been less jarring than you expected as well. Neither of you are particularly intrusive – he mostly keeps to himself, leaving for solid days without warning, holing up in the study, and spending hours in his room doing...something. If you’re being honest, you’ve barely seen him since the two of you arrived here. 

Tonight you hear him. The sound of him scraping at something in his room turns to footsteps creaking on the old stairs. You peek your head out to make sure he’s okay. 

Tomura stands at the window, staring out. Absentmindedly, he pets the dog’s head when she rubs against his leg.

Things have felt different since you’ve arrived. Maybe it was always like this. You did only know him for one night before moving in and of that night, you spent most of it asleep. Still, there’s a certain tension in the air that you don’t recall from before. His gaze never quite meets your eyes but you catch him stealing glances when he doesn’t think you’re looking. It’s probably normal, all part of adjusting to having another person in your space.

“Night,” he mumbles before continuing up the stairs to his room. You go back to yours, staring out the window for a while. There's something else out there after sundown. It doesn't permeate into his yard, but you can feel it all around. There's a distinctly different, dark energy on everything. 

It almost feels like it’s getting stronger.

By the time you wake up, the wind has died into a gentle breeze – it’s time to get to work, you have a long day ahead of you. 

Even with the on and off rains, you’ve been busy rebuilding something close to a temporary replacement for your garden. While you don’t intend to stay here forever, you have no immediate plans for where you’ll go yet. Thus, it made sense to have a small patch here – at least for this year. Tomura was happy to let you use whatever space you’d like to and, while he never actually said it, his eyes lit up at the prospect of fresh fruits and vegetables. You wonder the last time he made himself an actual meal. From what you’ve seen, there’s been nothing but quick to heat grains in the house until you arrived. Even now, there’s not much more you can make with what limited supplies you have.

There’s a windowed area built onto the side of the house that makes the perfect greenhouse. It’s a bit overgrown and, like everything else here, in some state of disrepair, but you don’t mind. It’s still spring so there’s a bit of time left to get most seeds going. Beets, peas, and sunflower shoots are all spilling over the edges of their pots. Some have been transplanted already, you’re slowly moving what you can into the plots you dug up. Hazel came out and helped, but it’s unclear how much she understands of the situation and you think she may have just wanted an excuse to play in the dirt.

What you’ve been able to grow will have to do for now, considering that they’re the only seeds you had stuck drying between the pages of your grimoire. Soon you’ll also need to go into town for more seeds, you’re not sure when that will be safe though. Tomura knows you need the seeds, in addition to other necessities, and said he has an idea. That was the second day you were here. Neither of you have brought it up since then.

In the meantime, you’ll have to go back into the forest to forage. It’s the least you can do to repay him for allowing you to stay.

You’re not really sure what Tomura is doing this morning, but you’d like to take advantage of the nicer weather. The breeze is warmer than the past few days and the clouds look unassuming. While your magic has never been perfectly in tune with the weather, you have no concerns. It’s as good of a day as any for a walk. 

After feeding yourself and Hazel then tending to the new plants, you’re ready to go. In the few weeks you’ve spent in this house, you haven't seen a basket anywhere so you bring an extra piece of cloth to wrap what you gather for the return trip.

When you walked here before, you were exhausted. Sure, you remember some of your surroundings, but you didn’t get a close look at them.

Tomura’s house is the only one remaining in what used to be a small town by the looks of it. Outlines of the houses still remain. Neither you nor your dog move closer to investigate. You can see well enough from the road. Their blackened foundations are etched into the landscape by a powerful dark magic. It feels similar to what you saw Tomura use the night your cottage burned down, but more concentrated. Part of you wants to ask him about it, but given that he’s the only person you’ve seen out here, you could probably guess. It’s hard to wrap your head around it, this was done by the same person who so easily took you in when you were in need. He’s not someone you’d describe as warm or friendly, but the juxtaposition of his doings still feels incomprehensible. You can see why they call him the symbol of fear.

The darkness appears to stretch over the entire peninsula. By the time you’ve reached the end, you’ve almost gotten used to the vacant lots. The rolling grass hills feel out of nowhere. 

Up you go, following a faint path to the top of the ridgeline. Rather than going back out towards the town, you continue straight into the forest. The trees become less windswept, growing closer together. Soon you’re back in your element.

Recent rains, followed by the warmer weather brought up a huge crop of mushrooms. The faint orange clusters stand out against the detritus. You cut off what you can carry, stuffing them in your makeshift bag. A few bunches of fiddlehead ferns catch your eyes as well. You take some of the tender shoots that have yet to unfurl. The cloth wrapped around your shoulder fills easily as you collect. With any luck, this should last you a few days.

Following Hazel further into the forest, you come across a stream. The two of you stop for water before continuing further up the hill. Light shines brighter through the trees and the sound of water grows louder. In a few more turns, the stream widens beneath a waterfall. It’s not massive by any means, but still just as pretty. Water trickles down boulders between vivid green moss. Hazel jumps in immediately. You watch as she plays in the water, taking off your boots to do the same. 

There’s something about beautiful spaces that makes you forget time. Hours slip by faster and before you know it the sun is settling behind the trees much sooner than you expected. Warm light illuminates the stream as you follow it back down the hill towards the peninsula. It looks like a golden snake slithering its way down to the ocean. You turn as soon as the trees begin to thin, in search of the faint trail that led you here. 

The sunset fades to pink, then darkens quickly.

Too quickly. 

A sense of foreboding overwhelms you as you rush down the grass covered hill towards the house. Once more, you curse yourself for not knowing more protective spells. Summoning some small amount of energy from the surrounding plants, you cast a thin shield over yourself and Hazel. It’s not much but it will be better than nothing. You hope the feeling is all in your head.

By the time you reach the road, darkness surrounds you. It’s as if the air you breathe is closing in around you. Everything goes cold, you’re shivering as you rush as fast as you can. But fast isn’t fast enough. It feels like a dream when you’re trying to run and being held back. You feel the spell you cast being pulled off of you. Then, warm hands on your shoulders. 

Startled, you turn to find yourself face to face with Tomura. 

“Take Hazel and run,” he growls. 

“What about you?” he doesn’t respond, shoving past you.

Through the haze, you manage to follow your dog towards the house. Your legs move easier now, but you still feel yourself in the grasp of an entity you can’t quite place. Focusing on throwing one foot in front of the other, you make it to the end of the peninsula.

As soon as you stumble through the gate, the world expands. Goosebumps disappear from your skin as the temperature rises back to normal. Hazel stands nearby, panting while watching something outside the fence. She seems to have fared better than you in all of this, whatever it is didn’t seem to hold onto her the same as it did to you.

Just as you start to get worried, Tomura stumbles through the gate, slamming it shut behind him. You jump up to help him, noticing a slew of new cuts over his face and hands. The two of you make it a few steps with you supporting his weight before falling onto the grass.

His arms hang limply over you, holding you to his chest. His breathing is slow, shallow. You listen for his heartbeat. It beats wildly, calming over time as the two of you catch your breath. He begins to stir, allowing you to roll onto your back.

“What was that?” you gasp.

“Nothing you need to deal with,” he grumbles, “why did you leave here without me?”

Hazel has settled in on his other side, head resting on his shoulder.

“To find dinner,” you say, pulling the nearly forgotten bundle of food from your shoulder.

“Next time come find me, I’ll go with you. No one should go into that forest alone at night, especially not you.”

“Why me?” you ask, “I notice whatever it is didn’t go for Hazel in the same way.”

“You have magic.” He sighs, sleepily. “And as of now, you’re also tied to me. So he wants you more than before.”

“So, having a connection to you makes him more interested in me?” 

“Forget I said anything,” Tomura mumbles.

There are so many questions you have that would take days to answer, but you know you won’t get anything out of him tonight. Instead, you lay here staring up at the stars. Eventually, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think all of this would have happened anyways, without the potion?”

“Maybe,” you say. “I mean, it’s quite the coincidence that you just so happened to be passing by my cottage at the times you were. If it wasn’t the potion, something brought us together.”

“Like fate?” he asks.

“If you believe in that sort of thing.” All of your conversations with Tomura up to this point have led you to believe he's too practical to buy into such things.  

“The fact that we can have our destinies tied together by a potion implies that fate is real. And if fate is real, wasn’t I always destined to end up on your doorstep somehow?” He’s moved closer, pressing up onto his elbow to face you. Of course he would have some sensible reasoning but it's a surprise to you how much he seems to have thought into your intertwined lives. Initially, he shrugged it off like he didn't care. Maybe he feels more than he lets on. Suddenly, you're aware of the closeness between the two of you. 

“Hmm,” you say slowly, giving yourself time to think. You wish you had more experience with conversations like this. “I never thought of it that way.” 

“No? How do you see it then?” he presses. Not in a demanding way, more like he's insatiably curious. It's an interesting feeling, it's not that you've never spoken with people, you have, but no one has ever wanted your opinion on something. Not like this. 

“I don’t know, the future feels like some nebulous cloud of possibility. This just solidified a direction.”

“So you do believe in fate?” His eyes scream 'I'm right' but his smile remains playful. Something in you melts against your will, making it hard to find the right words. 

“In some way,” you contemplate, “I think there are still some choices within it. But I guess so. This was always an outcome.”

“Does that matter to you?” he asks, leaning in closer. You can feel him a short breath away. 

“Does fate matter?” you ask. 

“No, does it matter if it was a potion or not? You're the first person I've ever been close with and I'm assuming it's the same for you. Does it bother you that this is all from something you created?” a flash of genuine concern crosses his face before you open your mouth to answer. 

“No.” You state it definitively, bringing the curiosity back into his features. “No, it doesn't bother me. If we're going through our lives like this regardless, I'd rather not let anything cheapen it. This is how it is and we'll never know otherwise. Besides, we create everything in our lives. Some of us just have other means of making things happen.”

His eyes narrow at you as he smirks, “is that not what got you into this mess? If you weren't making love potions for half the town–” he drops it, realizing the last half of his sentence is less fun than he intended. “Uhm, speaking of the town,” he continues, more seriously. “I am still working on that.”

“How's that going? Unless you can transform us, I don't see how we won't stand out immediately in that crowd.”

“Don't worry,” he assures you, “I have it all figured out.”

[series masterlist] [bnha masterlist]

i picked the prompt for the next part (i saw it and really wanted to write it for this!), but still accepting prompts from the lists on the masterlist or any i've shared to continue the story after that

taglist: @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16 @thesecond2demonking

@shigarakislaughter @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme 

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

 @lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk @love-for-yoosung-kim  @xytraxpy @venom-barf 

@shiiigaraki @thetinas21 @spam-1

[pretty-face-breaker]

Am I Forgetting Anything?

c.w. reunion of an abuser and victim, mention of smoking, creepy whumper, manipulation, past torture

After the kidnapping, Nick and Hayko have their first mutual conversation about their past.

—

Mount Royal Park is grey today. A pelt of low-hanging clouds sheathe the sky. Wind moves slowly through the trees. Hayko breathes deeply and smells rotting leaves and too many cigarette butts scattered near the benches.

Nick is in his good mood clothes. Black tee, black jeans, plain coat. Hair tidy and tucked behind his ears. All of it unassuming in the way a knife in a kitchen drawer is unassuming. He’s leaning back on the bench easily, elbows folded so they’re not touching Hayko, and probably thinking that makes him a gentleman.

Hayko, as always, wants to punch him in the mouth.

They’re watching two squirrels go at it in the grass. There’s an acorn involved. One keeps lunging, the other keeps dodging, squealing every time the first one makes contact. It’s been five minutes and neither seems ready to let go.

“You know,” Nick says suddenly, eyes still on the squirrels, voice all honeyed amusement. “I really thought you’d pick somewhere more public.”

Hayko doesn’t answer immediately. He’s too busy watching the squirrel on the offensive finally snap. The smaller one lunges forward, tackles the other with a shriek, and wrestles the acorn out of its claws.

“I prefer not to waste energy trying to act comfortable,” he replies flatly. “Spectacles make me tired.”

Nick laughs in delight when the squirrel darts off victoriously and the other one spirals in circles, confused at the loss.

“So let me get this straight.” His voice is bright. “You didn’t want the illusion of safety, so you chose the objectively less safe option?”

Hayko still doesn’t look at him. His eyes follow the loser squirrel as it scampers up the nearest tree. “You don’t need seclusion to fuck my life up. You do fine in crowds.”

Nick hums. Pleased with that, apparently.

The wind picks up. Hayko shivers but doesn’t adjust his hoodie.

His classroom had been chaos all week. Every command went sideways, every lesson plan deflated midway through. He’d gone from excelling in his gentle authority to a ghost pacing the room. They could smell it on him. The fear. The humiliation, ripe as blood. 

Nick stretches his legs out and casts him a sidelong glance. “Vlad know you’re all the way out here?”

A pause.

“He knows.”

—

After Nick dropped him off, Hayko had barely made it through the door before bolting to the bathroom. He didn’t even look at Vlad. Just rushed past him, slammed the door, and vomited like his body had finally recognized it had ingested poison.

Which, in a way, it had.

The wine, under duress. The cells from Nick’s mouth after the kiss he still couldn’t understand—born of stupid, manic grief. The cigarettes, plural, when he’d told himself it would just be one. 

Vlad had come in after him wordlessly and held up his hair as he dry-heaved, cleaned the corners of his mouth with a wet cloth when it was over. Made him strong Russian tea and sat beside him on the bathroom floor as Hayko sipped at it, trembling and cold. The whole place had reeked of anxiety.

Vlad hadn’t ask him what had happened.

After an hour silently staring at the tile grout and feeling like he might puke again, Hayko had told him, flat and detached. Like reciting his own case notes.

Vlad had taken his hand and held it firmly. Hayko had always liked that unyielding fort in his mind, how little he let anything phase his force of will. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want comfort,” he’d said, voice low. “Or if you think it’s your fault. It isn’t. It will never be.”

Hayko had nodded. Because what else could he do?

They’d gone to bed at some point, though the transition was a blur. Hayko remembered laying there, staring at the crease of unhappiness in Vlad’s mouth, feeling it wrap around him like a second blanket. He hated it. Hated the way Vlad worried. Hated himself for being the reason. Hated Nick, violently, for making him into this thing that needed to be cared for and swaddled again like a brittle bone that kept breaking.

And as always, they would survive this.

Hayko hated needing to.

—

Hayko tugs his hoodie closer around him, half from chill, half because it’s something to do with his hands. This is getting uncomfortable and he wants to leave and he’s incandescent with rage that he just can’t. He supposes he shouldn’t have gotten too comfortable with his autonomy.

Nick seems to sense that Hayko’s resolved to ride out the hour like it’s court-mandated community service—gritting his teeth through it all stony until the clock runs out.

So, of course, he provokes.

“Saw the fight between Jessie and Luke,” he says idly, as though noting the weather. “Yesterday. Messy.”

Hayko’s jaw clenches as rage flares up immediately. He forces it down with a breath, just like Dr. Carter coached him this week. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Anger is a wire waiting for contact.

“If we’re going to keep doing this, you stay the fuck out of my personal and professional life,” Hayko spits. “That includes my school. You don’t belong anywhere I’ve been invited.”

Nick doesn’t reply immediately. He shifts, leans forward a little, and his smile tightens—just a hair. “It’s sweet that you think you control how I spend my free time.”

Hayko turns to him now, really looks at him, and lets his voice cut like a blade. “I do. You don’t want one-sided communication. You don’t want death threats and venom. You want cooperation. So if you want me cooperative, then you’ll know your place. Stop pretending this is normal. We’re not exes running into each other at brunch. We’re international fucking criminals. You’re a degenerate sadist who still gets off on playing shadow puppeteer with my life.”

That does it. Hayko sees the flash in Nick’s eyes. That dead-eyed coolness Nick wears when Hayko’s gotten under his skin and he’s trying not to show it.

After a moment, Nick exhales slowly, measured. “I’ll avoid mentioning it to you.”

Hayko closes his eyes briefly and prays for strength. In, out. He finds his center again, however thin and tenuous. Then: “What else do you want to know that you haven’t already unceremoniously dug up?”

Nick leans back and mulls it over. “Not much, I’ll admit. Between your medical records, your lesson plans, your little weekend walks with Vlad…” His grin returns in a milder version. “There’s not a lot I haven’t learned. Hope you’ll forgive the invasion.”

He forces himself to stay still through each tendril of violation sliding down his throat. To give Nick nothing. Any flinch would be lapped up immediately.

Because he doesn’t believe he’s changed. Not really. People—things—like Nick don’t change. They simply adapt and become more visually palatable, like poison in a prettier bottle.

Nick continues, too pleased with himself. “But I do still want the trivia. What are you reading these days? What’s your favorite food? Favorite club?”

Hayko huffs a humorless breath. He sees the line, the bait, the glint of the hook. “Bothered that I’m seeing other people?”

Nick’s smile remains, but his eyes narrow immediately.

“Yeah,” Hayko says, tone turning sharper and sensing a tender spot. “I go out for drinks. I fuck strangers. Teachers flirt with me and I let them. I was never yours. Usually, when someone belongs to you, you don’t have to spend this much effort trying to prove it.”

Nick goes still. There’s no mask now, not even the forced charm. Just that slowly darkening mood, curling in him like a tide pulling back.

“Your flings don’t mean anything,” he says coolly, voice almost too calm. “They’re barely passable trauma coping mechanisms.”

Hayko raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Sure that statement wasn’t a cope in itself?”

Nick’s brow lifts, sharply, in warning. Hayko sees it and rolls his eyes, smiling anyway.

“You’re not the only one who can get off on hurting me. Thanks for initiating me into masochism, though. I really owe that one to you.”

“Are you antagonizing me on purpose?” 

“No shit.” 

Hayko sighs and looks at the ripped up tufts of grass where the squirrels were fighting, frowning at how ten minutes of their stupid animal kingdom instincts managed to mess up a perfectly respectable grass patch. Though, his own stupid instincts have destroyed a lot more.

“What… did you even want from me?” Hayko asks, feeling profoundly tired. 

He’s turned the question over until smooth, screamed about it in therapy, let it ruin night after night of sleep. He’s sewn together Nick’s piecemeal admissions and extrapolated from the facts—sadist, obsessive, some flavour of psychopath, enjoys having power over him, and is physically attracted to him. Saved his life so he feels entitled to him and therefore entitled to hurting him. 

“You keep asking that like you don’t believe my usual answers,” Nick responds coolly. 

Hayko’s hand twitches in his lap. “You don’t love me.”

“I do love you.” Nick’s arm creeps closer to him on the bench. “Love is relative. Denying it because it’s unconventional won’t do you any favors.”

Hayko laughs quietly. “Love requires understanding and there’s nothing you really understand about me. Except for my worst parts. And how finely I can be broken—” 

“In the beginning,” Nick interrupts with a long-suffering sigh, like he’s explained this to Hayko too many times. Like Hayko’s the one being unreasonable. “Yeah. You were entertaining and I really just liked tormenting you. Fine.” 

“There’s that honesty,” Hayko hisses.

“But then—”

“You found out that you’d rather torment me in your home?” 

“I started to learn things about you,” Nick cuts in. “How clever you are. Your naive do-goodism. Your work ethic. Your sheer will. Those are admirable qualities, my love. As well as your habits, hobbies, temperament.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Hayko bites out slowly. “And good for fucking you. You learned my personality after basically breathing down my neck for two years. That doesn’t mean anything except that you can scour for new things to manipulate me with.”

Nick leans in. Hayko leans back, shifting away from the heat of his proximity. For a moment, Nick seems content just breathing his air, studying him at a near-distance with something almost unreadable in his eyes. Then, quieter, voice lowered and tonally opaque—“Do you want an apology?”

Hayko’s breath falters. His voice trembles as he replies, not looking at him. “No.” He doesn’t have to say why. They both know. “You’re not sorry about any of it. And pretending you are won’t do me any favors.”

“I could do it in the spirit of things. Since we’re reconciling.”

Hayko’s hand tightens against the edge of the bench, white-knuckled now, his whole body tensed like wire. He can feel the throb of blood behind his teeth, the pump of it coursing through his chest like he’s moments from bracing for a blow. “You kidnapped me at gunpoint and forced the reconciliation,” he says, voice low and shaking with anger. “This is psychotic diplomacy. You’re not going to mindfuck me into thinking it’s something else.”

Nick watches him, unmoving. Then, a small smile curls the edge of his mouth like Hayko’s missed the punchline to some private joke. He leans back again, finally returning the space he’d invaded. His posture relaxes.

“I don’t feel remorse much,” he says evenly. “Told you that before.”

Hayko doesn’t shift. He barely breathes. 

“But,” Nick continues, almost thoughtful, “I regret what I did insofar as it meant I had to chase you halfway across the continent.” He looks at him. “I really did miss you, you know.”

The silence between them stretches. A shadow passes over Hayko’s face. “I missed my toys too, after I smashed them to pieces as a kid,” he mutters. “So I get it.”

Nick exhales a dry breath and tilts his head toward the park, eyes following the treeline. He shifts slightly, crossing one ankle over the other to stretch.

“I missed your company.”

Hayko stays silent for a few seconds, parsing that admission and wondering if he should give it any more weight than he would give any of Nick’s schemes. It’s more vulnerable, but Nick knows how to leverage vulnerability when it gives him an inch of forgiveness.

“I want you to admit what you did,” Hayko says at last, quiet. “I don’t want your humanity.”

Nick rolls his tongue slowly across the tops of his teeth, as if considering what might cost less—compliance, or performance. As if calculating whether this confession undermines the manipulation of the past hour.

“Fine,” he says, flatly. “I carved my initials into your shoulder. Kidnapped you. Held you captive. Beat and tortured you. Broke into your house. Coerced you into representing criminals. Coerced you into moving in with me—though, I’m not really giving you that one,” he adds with a lazy wave of his fingers. “Continued to torture you during your stay, mostly for fun. Mostly to get under your precious Vladimir’s skin. Drugged you. Provoked you. Strung you up like a ham.”

“That’s enough,” Hayko whispers, voice cracked open.

Nick doesn’t stop. “Cuffed you to a radiator,” he says mildly. “Am I forgetting anything?”

Hayko closes his eyes.

He sits with the silence, lets the weight of it settle across his shoulders. There it is. No denial, no reframe. Not even his usual tightrope act of rationalization. He said it. All the things Hayko survived and catalogued, the memories he’s been trying to bury with work and therapy and sheer will—confirmed like a ledger.

So Nick knew. He knew exactly what he did. Which means he knew it was wrong.

Which means he did it anyway.

Something in Hayko’s chest goes brittle and hollow, and for a second he regrets ever asking. There’s a strange comfort in doubt, in believing maybe Nick was just deluded. That it was all some twisted justification he’d convinced himself of. But now there’s no confusion left to soften the awareness. A man who knew, who still knows—and didn’t care.

"But you love me, right?"

His voice is nearly inaudible, more exhale than question, as if speaking it aloud might make it less hideous.

Nick smiles. “I love you,” he says warmly. “So much that I want to destroy you, really.”

Hayko’s breath wavers.

This is beyond anything he knows how to metabolize. He doesn’t know how to hold himself upright in this tetherless conversation. The worst part is that Nick’s clarity doesn’t calm him, like he’d hoped. It undoes him. 

Because it means Nick could’ve stopped.

And then Nick moves.

Stands up in a smooth motion, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeves, casual as anything. Hayko flinches like something’s been yanked out from under him.

“Hour’s up,” Nick says breezily. “You’re free to go.”

Hayko just stares at him slack-jawed, his eyes tracking the slow arc of Nick’s hand lifting in a jaunty, mocking wave. Then Nick turns, walking off down the path and not sparing him another glance. Hayko watches the shape of him getting smaller. And smaller.

And something in him cracks.

He lurches to his feet, heart pounding, the words leaving his throat before his brain can catch them.

“We’re meeting again tomorrow!”

His voice hits the air like gunfire, ragged and loud and furious. It shocks even him.

Nick slows. Glances over his shoulder, smirking faintly and saying nothing.

—

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[thespacewirednews]

Jupiter Ascending 🛰️⁣

Our Juno spacecraft captured a departing view of the planet’s swirling southern hemisphere in the final moments of a close flyby of Jupiter on Sept. 6, 2018. This color-enhanced image was captured as the spacecraft performed its 15th close flyby of Jupiter about 55,600 miles (89,500 kilometers) above the planet’s cloud tops. As of October 2024, Juno has performed 66 flybys!⁣ ⁣ Since 2016, Juno has been penetrating Jupiter’s deep, colorful zones and belts in a quest to answer fundamental questions about the gas giant’s origin and evolution. Now in its extended mission, Juno will continue to explore the solar system’s largest planet through September 2025, or until the spacecraft’s end of life. This mission extension expands to the full Jovian system – Jupiter and its rings and moons – with an additional pass planned for two of Jupiter’s most intriguing moons: Europa and Io.⁣ ⁣ Image description: Jupiter’s hemisphere takes up the right half of the screen. As a color-enhanced image, its colors appear more saturated and richer, allowing the details of Jupiter’s swirls to be more defined. Jupiter’s stripes radiate from the center of the planet out, first in a deep teal, transitioning to a stripe of a lighter green, followed by beige, terracotta, and beige once again.⁣ ⁣ Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS/Gerald Eichstädt⁣